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January, 1898 to June, 1898 

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$%n fllustrated Jffontlity 



Vol. XV. 


Xon&on : 

GEORGE NEWNES, LTD., 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, & 12, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, 



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The Strand Magazine. 

Vol. xv. 

JANUARY, 1898. 

No. 85 

Red Lirni and Blue Star. 

By John Arthur Barry. 

Author of "Steve Brown's Bunyip? "In the Gteat Deep," etc., etc. 



AH ! Don't talk to me about 
your new-fangled ships with 
their new-fangled patents ! " 
exclaimed a stout-set, red- 
faced, grizzled man as he 
munched his cheese and 
biscuit and washed it down with copious 
draughts of rum and water. " Wood's good 
enough for me," he continued, in a rumbling, 
husky tone of voice. " I'm sick o' the sight 
o' your flash steel clippers with their double- 
barrelled yards and double-barrelled skippers." 
"Meaning me and my ship, I suppose, 
Captain Bolger ? " asked a tall, fair, gentle- 
manly-looking man dressed in a fashionably 
cut suit of tweed, tan shoes, and straw hat 
with broad blue riband. 

"If you like to take the application to 
yourself you're welcome, Captain Wayland- 
Ferrars," retorted the other, with a snort, and 
a marked pause at the hyphen. " But there's 
lots more dandy sailors and dandy ships 
besides yours. Still, the Turpsansicahurry's 
a case in point What is she but a cursed 
iron tank built out o' plates that a shark 
could shove his snout through? An' she's 
neither wholesome to look at nor good to 
sail, except by a fluke. Paint over iron-rust, 
steel an' iron and soft timber. London 
mixture — neither fish, fowl, nor red herrin' ! 
Donkey engine amidships, an' monkey poop 
aft. Sheer like a Chinee junk; stiff as a 
bandbox and tender as a rotten tooth ; broom- 
handles for yards, and marlinspike for bow- 
sprit Yah ! Fair stinks, too, o' science all 
over. An' with it all, a poor thing ; cheap 

and nasty. Why, I wouldn't swap the Mary 
Johnson for a baker's dozen of such." 

" You're very insulting, sir," said the other 
man, flushing hotly, " and but that your age 
renders you privileged, and the liquor you've 
drunk has probably affected your brain, I 
should certainly call you to account for your 

" Haw ! haw ! " roared the other, turning 
his fiery face round to the crowd in the bar. 
"D'ye hear him? Coffee an' pistols for two 
in the Botanic Gardens to-morrow morning. 
Five-an '-forty year, boy and man, I've used 
the sea. And now to be told that I'm drunk 
by a new-fangled whipper-snapper like that, 
whose scientific head can't stand nothing 
stronger than ' Haw, lemon squash, if you 
please, Susan.' " 

" Oh, go on board your old tub, do," said 
the captain of the Terpsichore, angrily, " and 
don't come here to pick quarrels with your 

Flop, as he finished speaking, came the 
rum and water into his face, whilst the old 
sea-dog, struggling in the grasp of a dozen 
hands, was vainly endeavouring to get at the 
other, on his part going through the same 

And this was how the historic feud com- 
menced between the two ships in the bar of 
the Custom House Hotel on the Circular 
Quay of Sydney, New South Wales. 

Here, as the sun travelled over the fore- 
yard arm, sundry masters of craft lying near 
were accustomed to meet for a drink and a 
snack before the one o'clock gun called them 
t<f dinner. Men of the new seamanship, 
mostly, but with a sprinkling of others who, 
like Bolger, swore by their wooden clippers, 



had been with difficulty induced to give 
double topsails a trial, but drew the line at 
two topgallant yards; and to whom the sight 
of a patent log, or a lead, or a Thompson 
compass , was like that of a red rag to a bull 
And where amongst other places the shoe 
pinched was in the fact that the Terpsichore 

Red Lions in the matter of freights. Through 
their Sydney agents ihey had, indeed, just 
done so ; and that fact, added to the slow 
passage, had been chiefly responsible for old 
Bolger's outbreak of temper towards Way- 
land-Ferrars — a representative of that new 
school of shipmasters he so thoroughly dis- 


had now, for the first time, beaten the Mary 
Johnson on the outward passage. They were 
both regular traders to Port Jackson ; and, 
hitherto, luck had been on the side of the 
Mary — a fine specimen of the Aberdeen- 
built clipper, now nearly extinct under the 
Red Ensign, and as great a contrast to 
the Terpsichore as could he well imagined. 
The former belonged to a line known from the 
device on its house-flag as the tf Red Lion/ 
The steel ship was one of a fleet of cargo- 
carriers familiar to seafarers for a similar 
reason by the name of " Blue Star," But 
Captain Bolger's employers were in a very 
small way of business compared to their 
rivals of the Blue Star, who, in addition to 
sailers, owned a dozen big ocean tramp 

Hence they could afford to underbid the 

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liked — apart from all considerations of rivalry 
between their respective employers. And, 
into the bargain, he regarded the captain of 
the Terpsichore as a mere fine weather sailor, 
one of those products of a train ing-s:iip and 
high-class Board of Trade examinations who 
know more theoretically about cyclone 
centres, ocean currents, hydrography, and 
kindred subjects than the practical part of 
their profession. 

And something of all this he muttered and 
growled as friends held him back whilst 
Wa viand - Ferrars got away. The latter, 
although hurt and indignant at the insult 
put thus publicly upon him, knew that nothing 
was to be gained by fighting the old fellow, 
either there or at law. And, anyhow, 
stalwart six-and-twenty cannot with any grace 
punch the head of sixty, no matter how hot, 



rash, and abusive the latter may be. So, 
actually, there seemed nothing to be done 
but grin and. bear it, and keep as clear of 
the captain of the Maty Johnson as possible. 

Not that Bolger had the reputation of 
being a quarrelsome man, even in his cups. 
On the contrary, he was respected and liked 
by most of those who had relations with 
him, and whose verdict amounted to " honest 
and good-hearted — if a bit rough." The 
fact of the matter was that Bolger was behind 
his time — a very sad situation for most men 
to be placed in, and a sailor perhaps more 
than all. And the old man was bewildered 
at the changes taking place around him. 
Visiting another ship, the chances were that 
things about the deck would "catch his eye of 
whose uses, and very names even, he was 
totally ignorant — and preferred to remain so. 
Also men were masters now at ages that in 
his day would have been thought pre- 

Of course, as was to be expected in 
" Sailor Town," the news of the row in the 
bar of the Custom House Hotel spread 
amongst the sea-folk living in their ships 
stuck about in the sequestered wharves and 
jetties that poke out into the harbour from 
Woolloomooloo Bay to Pyrmont Bridge. But 
inasmuch as there were very few men of the 
old order in port just then, the captain of the 
Terpsichore came in for much of the sympathy 
he undoubtedly deserved, with the result that 
old Bolger was practically sent to Coventry 
by the other skippers. 

As it happened, the two vessels were lying 
at the north-west corner of the quay, and no 
distance apart. Also, mirabile dic/u, the 
majority of their crews were British. And as 
was only natural, these men presently took 
sides, showing their partisanship in the only 
way possible to them, viz., assaulting each 
other at every decent opportunity. Not very 
often through the week did such chances 
offer, but on Saturday nights when the crews 
met, coming back in the small hours from 
" up town," the din of battle woke the whole 
quay, and brought men to see the fun from 
all the great English, French, and German 
mail steamers lying around. 

The captain of tHe Mary Johnson^ one 
imagines, was rather pleased than otherwise 
at this state of affairs. He had a more 
powerful crew than the Terpsichore— losing 
men, this latter ship, on account of her 
patent labour-saving appliances, for some 
of which she ought really to have been 
allowed extra hands. As for Captain Way- 
land -Ferrars, he seldom slept on board 
Digitized by GOOgle 

between Friday night and the beginning of 
the week ; so he never saw his gangway 
nettings on the quiet Sabbath mornings full of 
incapable, and sometimes sorely pummelled, 
Terpsichores. Perhaps his officers should 
have reported the facts. But they refrained 
from doing so. And if the captain wondered 
how his usually quiet and peaceable chief 
mate appeared at times with black eyes ; and 
noticed that the second mate and the boat- 
swain, too, bore similar pugilistic marks and 
contusions, he asked no questions. All his 
spare thoughts and moments were occupied 
with the courtship he was carrying on at 
Springwood, in the mountains. Next trip 
they were to be married ; and there was 
nothing particularly requiring his presence 
on board. 

Presently the two vessels finished dis- 
charging, and hauling out into the stream 
began to preen themselves for the home- 
ward flight. 

The Terpsichore was a well-found ship, with 
no lack of white and red lead, oil, turps, and 
varnish in her paint-lockers. So that, with 
her pink composition bends running to top- 
sides of a delicate grey, broken by a line of 
eighteen black and white ports, she soon 
began to look a fine spot of colour. All 
her spars with the exception of topgallant and 
royal masts, boom and gaff, were painted a 
deep buff. And land-people crossing John- 
stone's Bay in the ferry-boats invariably 
exclaimed, " Oh, what a pretty ship ! " taking 
no notice of the Mary Johnson. But sea- 
farers seldom gave the Terpsichore a second 
glance, keeping their regards on the fine old 
clipper with her beautiful yacht-like lines, 
clean run, bright, tapering spars, and spacious 
poop and topgallant forecastle. By scraping 
and tarring and scrubbing and polishing, poor 
old Bolger did all he could. But even then 
she looked worn and weather-beaten for lack 
of that paint his employers had not thought 
themselves able to afford. Unable at length 
to stand it any longer, the old man bought the 
stuff out of his own pocket. And presently, as 
his vessel swung to her anchors, all dark, 
glistening green, with just a narrow gilt bead- 
ing running around it, stem and stern, lower 
masts and yards of spotless white, her other 
spars scraped and oiled till the Oregon pine 
shone like mahogany, he felt easier in his 
mind. And looking up at the Red Lion 
blowing from the main royal pole, and then 
at the Blue Star yonder, showing black out 
of its white ground over the shimmering 
metal gimcrack with the outrageous name, 
he swore to nr»?ke such a run home as would 




let people know the difference between new- 
fangled ships commanded by new-fangled 
skippers with double- barrel led names and a 
skipper and ship of the good old-fashioned 

At last Bolger 3 s agents had got him freight, 
and it seemed that both vessels would be 
starting for home about the same time. 
Fortunately they were loading at far apart 
wharves. But, still, whenever a Lion and a 
Star met, singly or in company, there would 
be ructions. Thus amongst the sea-folk along 
the foreshores the interest was kept alive, 
and not a few bets were made and taken on 
the possible race, Bolger, it appeared, had 
announced his intention to his few cronies 
at the midday lunch either to beat the 
Terpsichore home or lose his spars. 

As for the latters captain, he only laughed 
when told of this, taking no heed. He had 
other fish to fry up Spring wood way. Since 
the day of the quarrel he had never set eyes 
on Bolger. Nor did he wish to. Neither for 
the Mary Jokns&n nor her skipper did he 
mean to bother himself; and he declined all 
wagers with respect to a race, saying, what was 
perfectly true, that he didn't care which ship 
got home first. All the same, he had 
privately made up his mind to break the 
record. But not on account of Bolger and 
bis bragging; only because the quicker be 

Digitized by G* 

was home and back again the sooner would 
the Spring wood episode find fitting close. 



61 Irs the darkest night I ever remember 
seeing in my whole life," remarked Mr. 
Hopkins, the mate of the Mary* Johnson. 

" Same here," replied Captain Bolger; "it 
feds that thick, one could almost take a knife 
and cut chunks off it and throw 'em about" 

The Mary had rounded Cape Horn, and 
was making good progress northabout, when, 
all of a sudden, she had, at eight bells that 
night, run into a windless patch of blackness 
the calmness and intensity of which were 
such as none on board remembered ex- 

So thick was the darkness that captain and 
mate, standing almost touching, were utterly 
invisible to each other* Nor could any part 
of the ship be discerned, as she lay motion- 
less without creak of truss or parrel or 
slightest lift of sail Even the rudder was 
still, and the wheel-chains gave never a 
rattle. The only point of light came from 
the binnacle, a yellow blot that itself seemed 
choked by the woolly blackness surrounding 

presently, a man getting a drink at the 



scuttle-butt let the tin dipper rattle, and the 
noise made men jump and stare aloft, think- 
ing that a yard had carried away. 

" Phew ! " exclaimed Bolger, " dashed if it 
don't smell black ! An' you can feel it in 
your throat, can't you, Hopkins?" 

"Aye, sir," replied the latter, his voice 
sounding muffled and dull, " this beats my 
time. It's onnatural, to my way of thinking. 
A regular phenomener, that's what it is." 

" Umph," grunted the other, crustily, 
" that's what whippersnapper-double-barrel 
J ud call it, no doubt, if he were here. An' he'd 
put a name to it as long as his ship's. Well, 
I s'pose," he continued, and you could almost 
hear the grin of the old chap, " that he's 
flyin' along somewhere in the Nor'-east Trades 
afore this." 

He had scarcely spoken when from away 
abeam came a noise sounding like the bark 
of a dog. 

"Eh?" said Bolger. 

"Seal! "said Hopkins. 

" Your grandmother ! " said Ithe skipper. 
" What *ud one be doing in twenty degrees 
south ? It's a dog. There he is again. It's 
a ship run into this stinkin' patch o' black 
fog an' pitch " 

Indistinct and dull though the sounds 
were, there presently seemed little doubt that 
they really proceeded from a dog. 

" Skipper's bow-wow on the Terpsic-curry" 
hazarded the mate. "That big black-an'- 
white brute that collared the bo'sun the night 
we had the rumpus " 

"Aye, aye, like enough," interrupted Bolger, 
impatiently. "Anyhow, it's a long way off 
by the sound. If double-barrel's in here, all 
his dashed science won't get him out of it any 
faster than us." 

" Isn't that a light, or the reflection of 
one ? " asked the mate, sharply. " Why, it's 

aboard of us ! Con ," but he had time 

for no more, when, with a dull, grating, 
rumbling sound, accompanied by one of 
snapping and crackling aloft, a great mass 
snugged up, as it were, alongside the Mary 
Johnson and remained there, whilst arose 
from many throats a wild chorus of shouts, 
threats, and curses, mingled with the furious 
barking of a dog. 

" What on earth is it ? " roared Bolger, 
dancing frantically along his poop, and peer- 
ing with useless eyes, now aloft, now out- 
board, at the faint splash of yellow light 
alone visible. " Ship ahoy ! " he hailed. 
" What the blazes are you doin' runnin' into 
me like that ? " 

" Ahoy, ahoy ! " retorted p. rpuffied voice, 

Digitized by V^GOQK 

as more dull yellow blotches became visible 
through the black mist. " Isn't the sea wide 
enough for you, but that you must come 
blundering into people in such a fashion ? 
Who the deuce are you ? " 

"Mary Johnson, of London, homeward 
bound from Sydney. Get your boats over 
and pull yourself out of our road afore you 
do more mischief. What sort of confounded 
sogers are you, anyhow ? Clear off, now ! 
What's your name ? " 

" Don't be in such a hurry," was what the 
reply sounded like. " Get your own boats 
out if you want to," followed by something 
suspiciously resembling laughter from the 

" Terpsic-curry, or I'm a dago ! " exclaimed 
Mr. Hopkins, as the carpenter came aft and 
reported a tight ship. " Chips," he continued, 
" serve out all the tomahawks you can find." 
Then, turning to the captain, he continued, 
" I think, sir, we'd better send some hands 
aloft to cut away. We're evidently fast up 

"Do as you like," replied Bolger, wrath- 
fully. " But they'll only chop their fingers off! 
Why, man," he exclaimed, in furious tones, 
" we might ha' well been born blind, like 
puppies an* kittens, for all the use our eye- 
sight is to us ! " 

However, the mate had his way ; and 
presently in the blackness could be heard 
voices and the noise of chopping as the men 
lay out on the yards and cut at intertwisted 
stays, lifts, and braces. Also it soon became 
evident that the other ship had its crew 
similarly employed. And in a while it 
seemed from the sounds of shouting and 
swearing up there in the smother that at 
several points the two parties had met. 

The hulls, after the first impact, had 
separated, some dozen or so of feet now 
lying between them. But their yards and 
rigging being still foul, gave them a heavy 
list towards each other. Lights there were in 
plenty, but so feebly did they show through 
the thick, woolly darkness, dank now with 
heavy dew, that they were quite useless. 

Still, there was no doubt whatever that the 
vessel was the Terpsichore, thus strangely 
hugging her rival in mid-ocean and midnight. 
And it was passing curious to hear the hailing 
of the hands for'ard from respective forecastle- 
heads and yards. 

" Is that bricky - headed Shetlander 

" Aye, an' he'll be punchin' your heid if he 
got a chance agen, same as he done afore." 

" Where's that farmer with the game leg ? " 




*'*Ere, an* ready to use *it on your ugly 
karkuss, whoever you is." 

"I,et J s 'ear from the Irish soger as I give 
the father ov a thrashin' to that Saturday night 
on the quay. Or 'as f e lost Is voice through 

" Arrah thin, me foine bhoy, if Oi had 
yez aboard here its singing an entoirely 
different kind av a song ye J d be — so ut 

Aft, old Bolger hurled defiance with a rough 
tongue and a vocabulary that never failed. 
But there was no response 
from the Terpsichords poop* 
Which contemptuous silence 
made him more furious than 

And although no verbal 

night wore on, black, breathless, damp* And in- 
asmuch as nothing is ever perfectly motionless 
at sea, the ships drifted with their hulls still 
held apart by interlocking spars and gear. 
Finding the men aloft could neither see nor 
feel to do anything but further mischief, they 
had been recalled, and both vessels waited 
impatiently for dawn — if another one there 
was to be + For, as to ttiis last matter, 
amongst the men was some doubt, none of 
them having ever in their using of the sea 
experienced anything like it. 


answer was returned to his taunts and in- 
vective, that somebody appreciated them 
was evident ; for, presently, he was hit in 
the face by a lump of canvas, dipped in tar, 
and rolled and tied into ball-shape. 

At this, rushing to his cabin, he seized a 
gun, but luckily was unable to find any 
ammunition for it ; so was fain to cool down 
and let the steward get the tar (which was oF 
the variety known as " coal," and therefore 
burnt savagely) off his face. Meanwhile, the 

Digitized by t*t 

But :\t hist the darkness lifted^ leavings 
however, a thick fog behind it. At sunrise 
that also rose, disclosing an extraordinary 
spectacle, at teast to a seafarer's eye. 

Almost exactly abreast, the ships leaned 
over to each other with a considerable list, 
whilst all their top-hamper was intertwisted 
and commingled. The l/tiry Joh?non had 
been lying with her yards braced well up on 
to the port tack, when the Terpsichore had 
floated so gently down and hugged her with 



her own yards nearly square. The result was 
almost indescribable. The Terpsichore's upper 
fore and main topgallant yards had jammed 
in the corresponding rigging of the Mary ; 
whilst the latter's lower topsail yardarm was 
driven through the Terpsichore's topmast 
rigging, and so on, and so on. All the lower 
yards were free. 

It was exactly as if the two ships had been 
a couple of angry fighting women, and had 
seized each other by the hair, whilst keeping 
their bodies clear of each other. But so 
gently had the thing been done that, bar a 
few backstays, brace - pennants, and lifts 
carried away, no damage of much import- 
anee had taken place. Certainly, the least 
draught of air, a cat's-paw almost, just to fill 
the light sails, would result in ruin instant 
and wide-spread to both ships, ail of whose 
topgallant and royal masts would go — if not 
some of the greater spars into the bargain. 

Seeing this, there was little need to issue 
orders ; and already men were pushing, 
pulling, and, in unavoidable cases, cutting, 
lanyards and seizings until, at last, and after 
a work of no little difficulty and danger, the 
clearing was effected, and with trailing gear 
each vessel, released, sprang back to an even 
keel again. 

And whilst busy at repairs — rigging pre- 
venter backstays, splicing, fitting, and setting- 
up — the Homeric war of tongues between the 
crews commenced afresh. 

Wayland - Ferrars was walking his poop 
whilst Bolger stumped the Mary's, pausing 
every now and then to roar out what he 
thought of the Terpsichore, her officers, crew, 
and owners. But of these compliments the 
other skipper took no notice, only anxiously 
looking up at the sky or overside at the 
water. The former, however, was cloudless, 
the latter like paint. And the ships were 
evidently coming together again. Never 
perhaps had there been a situation quite 
like it, even at sea, the home of curious 

It would have been simple enough to have 
got a couple of boats over and towed the 
ships a fair distance apart. But, apparently, 
neither of their captains cared about being 
the first to start. Instead, fenders were 
placed in position and yards braced sharp up 
on opposite tacks, so as to do as little mischief 
as possible. 

Bolger had hoisted the Red Lion, the 
other his Blue Star, and both house-flags 
hung from their halliards like dead fish in 
the stirless air. 

Presently, having exhausted all the sea- 

VoL xv.— 2 

Digitized by \j009 Ic 

taunts he c$uld think of, one of the Mary 
Johnson's men picked up a piece of coal 
from a bucket the cook was carrying, and 
threw it at a group on the Terpsichore's fore- 
castle-head. It hit a man, drawing blood ; 
and with a roar of anger a storm of missiles 
were sent hurling aboard the Mary. Now, 
it is not easy to procure things throwable on 
board of a ship, but the captain of the 
Terpsichore had before leaving, as it hap- 
pened, laid in a big stock of Sydney sand- 
stone to scour his decks with; and this, 
being presently broken up, made splendid 
ammunition. Volleys of these sharp-edged 
fragments were now poured on the men of 
the Mary Johnson, who could only retort 
expensively with lumps of coal, hanks, or 
such odd bits of scrap-iron as they might lay 
hands on. 

Nor, as perhaps might have been expected, 
did Captain Wayland - Ferrars interfere. 
Although neither allowing himself nor his 
officers to reply to the abuse lavished on 
them by Bolger, Hopkins, and the other of 
the Mary Johnson's, afterguard, he was 
actually very angry. Thus, when he saw his 
men possessed an immeasurable advantage 
over their opponents, he tacitly permitted 
them to go ahead. Which they did ; for 
presently finding that the Mary Johnson's 
bulwarks afforded her crew too much shelter, 
they took ammunition into their tops and 
cross-trees, and thence pelted with effect. 

As for Bolger, he simply foamed with 
impotent rage. Had there been firearms to 
be used, he undoubtedly would have used 
them. But there was neither powder nor 
shot to be found. 

A lump of sandstone hit him on the shins, 
another bit broke in pieces against his 
shoulders. Every moment missiles struck the 
poop — the binnacle was badly dented, and 
some of the glass in the skylights cracked. 
Cursing bitterly, he picked up pieces and 
hurled them at his enemy standing on the 
Terpsichore's poop, calm and unconcerned, 
smoking, with his hands in his pockets. But 
the rain of stones grew so fierce that he had 
at length to seek shelter in the companion 
along with Hopkins, only emerging now and 
again to heave an empty bottle at the foe. 
Superiority in numbers on this occasion 
availed his crew nothing. And the Terpsi- 
chores were simply wild with delight, not 
only at the fun and excitement of the thing, 
but the chance that offered of paying off 
some old Sydney scores. 

The Mary Johnson's cook ran aft to protest. 
There was none too much coal in the fore- 




peak, A ton already must have been hurled 
on board the other ship. Supplies must be 
stopped, or there would be no more cooking 
done* Nor could the missiles of the enemy 
be used with any effect by their recipients, 
as, generally, the sandstone ttirown from 
such a height smashed to atoms. 

And presently the Terpsichore s topmen 
and those in her cross- trees had the Alary 
Johnsoiis decks fairly cleared, so sharp and 
true were their volleys. 

" Haul down that rag ! 31 roared the boat- 
swain of the Terpsichore ^ standing on the 
rail and pointing to the house-flag, "or we'll 
come aboard and haul it down for ye ! " 

At which insult Bolger rushed from his 
shelter, and with a deftly thrown lemonade 
bottle— the last of a few dozen that the after- 

meet it--and, unperceived, ran along the spar 
and into the Mary Johnson* $ top. From 
here, reaching out, he cut the signal halliards, 
and hauling down the house-flag, tied it round 
his waist and regained his own ship, saluted 
by a burst of cheering that puzzled the others 

Hardly had the Red Lion been hoisted at 
the Terpsichore's main sky sail-pole under the 
Blue Star, when a faint air came blowing 
little ripples along the water. The light sails 
flapped and filled and fell, then rose and filled 
again. Growing stronger, the wind next caught 
the topsails and enabled the Terpsichore to 
make a stern -board, taking away a couple of 
the Mary Johnson's backstays as she went 

Cheer upon cheer arose as she cleared the 
Mary t whose men were now on deck gazing 


guard had been using- -very neatly knocked 
the boatswain off his perch. And all the 
time the ships had drawn closer until almost 
in the same position as the night before. 

The Mary Johnsons deck was deserted, 
and looked like a coal and sandstone quarry. 
Her galley funnel was bent and twisted, and 
all the glass hulls'-eyes of her deckhouses on 
one side were starred and fractured, whilst her 
paint and brass work was scratched and 
bruised. If a man only showed his head 
now it was a signal for a shower of well-aimed 
stones ; so everyone kept under shelter. 
Suddenly a man jumped on to her main yard- 
arm from the Terpsichore* s— braced round to 

Digitized by G< 

stupidly and unbelievingly at their house-flag 
standing out stiff to the breeze under that of 
their enemy. 

Bolger nearly had a fit when he fully 
realized what had happened, raving about 
the littered decks like a madman, whilst 
Way land - Ferrars waved hi in an ironical 
salute, and his men sent a last volley rattling 
about his ears. 



It is not putting it too strongly to say that 
the abduction of his house-flag cast not only 
a gloom over- Captain Bolger's spirits, but 




over those of the ship's company as well. 
Any sailor worth his salt believes in his ship, 
and the Mary Johnson 's crowd felt their defeat 
and disgrace more keenly than the bruises and 
cuts which smarted so sorely on their bodies. 

" We'll never have any luck," said Bolger, 
despondently, to his mate, "after letting a 
scowbank of a turnpike-sailor like that get to 
win'ard of us in such fashion. Why, cuss it, 
we'll be the laughin'- stock o' the Port o ; 
London if the yarn gets about ! " 

u Well, we licked 'em ashore, anyhow," re- 
plied Hopkins, resignedly, " and if we'd only 
thought of laying in a ton or two o' holy- 
stones, we'd have done it again at sea. And, 
anyhow, sir, perhaps they won't be inclined 
to blow about their victory much, seem' 
as it's a police-court matter. Why, damme, 
it's piracy on the high seas — comin' aboard 
and stealing the company's flag that way ! " 

But Bolger refused to be comforted. Nor 
did it improve his temper when one day they 
met a big cargo steamer, with a blue star on 
her white funnel, whose skipper as she slipped 
by hailed from her bridge, amidst loud 
laughter from the crew : — 

"There's a chap ahead, yonder, who wants 
an owner for a house-flag he's picked up 
somewhere. It's got a red lion on it, and 
they're using it for a tablecloth in the fok'sle, 
just at present, till the owner comes along." 

Very poor wit, doubtless. But Bolger had 
no heart to retaliate otherwise than by shaking 
his fist at the steamer's men, grinning over 
weather cloths aft and rail for'ard. 

" I'm done with the sea," he said to his 
chief mate. " This is my last trip. Thank 
the Lord, I've been able to put a bit aside, 
an' I've got a cottage an' an acre or two o' 
ground just outside o' Marget. An', anyhow, 
they were talkin', last time I was home, o' 
sellin' the Mary to the Norwegians. So let 
em. I don't want no more sea. It's got 
beyond my days an' ways." 

" Old man's got his lemon down bad," 
remarked Mr. Hopkins to the second mate ; 
"and I didn't want to trouble him by saying 
so ; but if we'd stopped alongside o' the 
Terpsic-curry much longer she'd ha' curried 
us properly. When I took a squint, just 
before the breeze came, I saw 'em getting up 
steam in the donkey, and leading hose along 
the deck. You may bet they meant to try 
and wash us down with boiling water, or 
some treat like that I couldn't stop to 
fairly make sure what their little game was, 
for I got a clout with a stone that knocked 
all the wind out of me." 

After a while, it really seemed as if the 

Digitized by \*i 

captain of the Mary Johnsoris presentiment 
of ill-luck was only too well founded ; for 
one night, when running heavily off the 
Western Islands, she was brought by the lee, 
taken aback, and all three masts had to be 
cut away before she righted, a hopeless wreck 
in the most dreadful accident that can befall 
a ship. There was a tremendous sea on that 
constantly swept her decks and gave her 
crew a terrible night's work to clear the mess 
of spars and gear that threatened every 
moment to knock a hole in her sides. By a 
miracle almost, no one had been killed or 
carried overboard. But their case seemed 
hopeless when morning dawned and showed 
them the naked hull with only three jagged 
fangs — the tallest not 6ft. high — where so 
lately had appeared the stately grove of spars. 
Not a sound boat was left ; and, to make 
matters worse, the carpenter presently 
reported 3ft. of water in the well. 

The skipper setting an example, they went 
to the pumps, but the big seas that came 
aboard nearly washed them away from the 
brakes, rendering their efforts doubly severe 
and fatiguing. Still they worked on doggedly 
as only British seamen could have done, and 
the clank of the pumps sounded incessantly 
all that long morning watch, whilst the 
workers' ears eagerly listened for the " suck " 
that should tell of a dry ship below foot, 
whatever she might be above. With her 
naked bows lifted one moment in streaming 
protest to the shrieking sky, the next buried 
fathoms deep, the hull lurched and pitched, 
and rolled in such a shocking fashion as 
made the oldest sailor sick, and the hearts of 
all grow faint within them as they marked 
the wild straining plunges and frantic wallow- 
ings, seemingly enough to divorce any timbers 
ever put together by human hands. 

"Three foot ten," said the carpenter, 
sounding as well as he was able at the end 
of the last long spell. "I'm afeared she'll 
never suck no more." And the captain, 
seeing no use in killing his men for nothing, 
ordered everybody aft into such shelter as 
could be found. The saloon was as yet 
comparatively dry. But nobody cared about 
staying there, what with the terrific hurly- 
burly, intensified below, and the knowledge 
that the ship was sinking. So life-lines being 
rigged fore and aft the poop, all hands 
secured themselves and stolidly watched the 
huge combers that burst across the fore-part 
of the doomed vessel, at times even sweeping 
over the poop itself and hurling the men 
together in half-drowned heaps as the lines 
slackened under the tremendous pressure, 





So the gloomy day wore on, the captain and 
his mates, at the risk of being swept overboard, 
twice brin^in^ provisions and drink from the 
saloon and serving them out to the men* 

"UVI1 drown better full-bellied than fast- 
ing," said the old skipper, grimly. 

The water was over a man's knees in the 
saloon now ; and the hull no longer tossed 
and tumbled like a cork, but sagged and 
floundered heavily and lifelessly amongst the 
topping seas that encompassed it, rising with 
difficulty, and seeming glad to sink wearily 
down between their green slopes, 

l,ate in the afternoon, quite near them, 
hove up all of a sudden on the awful sea- 
mountains, they saw a ship ; saw her for a 
minute and then lost her again, then saw her 
again. She was a big, painted port vessel 
running under her two lower topsails and a 
staysail forard. And she evidently saw 
them, for she kept away three or four points 
and ramo straight towards the wreck- Hut 
the castaways rose no cheer, no hope came 
into their salt- in crusted faces. Human help 
in such a sea could avail naught. 

The dusk of the evening was at hand, 
making objects indistinct. But some sailors 
know a ship they have even only once seen, 
as Australian bush men do a horse ; and a 
murmur rose from the crew of the Alary 
Johnson^ lashed to their life-lines, as the 
stranger, thrown up on the brow of a great 

Digitized by GoOglC 

comber, leant over held by some invisible 
hand, as it seemed, a hundred feet above 
them, and they recognised the Terpskh&rt, 

For a minute she hung there, then dis- 
appeared, hidden on the far side of the wall 
of water that rolled on and broke over the 
wreck in one great mass of spray and foam 
from stem to stern. Once more they saw 
her, topping another and a smaller roller, and 
noted that from her peak the red ensign now 
blew out rigid as if made of painted steel 
Then a rain-squall hid her, and when it 
cleared the darkness had fallen. 

"A cussed Rooshian or a Turk couldn't 
ha' done less," growled a sailor. 

"Blow it, man, ' retorted another, bitterly, 
u what more cud he do only give us a last 
look at the old flag ? " 

" He might have stood by us," remarked 
Hopkins to the captain, close to whom he 
was lashed, * A although, come to think of it, 
there wouldn't be much use in that, for I 
don't believe the poor old Mary s ll last the 
night; I wonder if he knew us." 

" Aye, aye," growled llolger. " He'd reco 1 - 

nise us, right enough. But give the devil 

his due an* fair play. This weather takes a 

man all he can do to look out for his own 

ship without actin T hidey-go-seek around a 

sinkiu r hull. You knows as well as 1 do 

that the Channel Squadron an' the Admiral 

to boot couldn't do us any good by stoppin' 




to stare at us now. For my part, the sooner 
it's over the better." 

As he spoke, a rocket cleft the murky sky 
astern of them, succeeded quickly by another 
and another. A stifled cheer that was half a 
groan broke from the men as they saw that, 
after all, they were not deserted. For 
although no one had acknowledged it, the 
sight of that vessel apparently leaving them 
had intensified the bitterness of the death 
they looked upon as inevitable. 

" Why, damme, if he ain't wearin' ship to 
get to wind'ard of us ! " shouted old Bolger. 
14 Well, who'd ha' thought he'd had grit and 
nous enough to do that in such a sea? 
Come up all I have ever said agen the chap. 
See, there goes another rocket ! Well, I 
don't know what good he can do us, 
even if we last till daylight Still, it's com- 
pany, an' puts heart into a man, anyhow. 
I^et's have a drink round — to his health ! " 

They drank, handing the demijohn of rum 
from one to the other. And then, with new 
life in their souls, they made out to find and 
light a riding-lamp, which they lashed to the 
stump of the mizzenmast, all with infinite 
pain and difficulty. But they were rewarded 
when they saw red, blue, and green stars rise 
dead to windward, taking it as a sign their 
signal was understood. And, oh, the comfort 
through the dreary, dark hours of those other 
lofty harbingers of hope ascending now here, 
now there, as the Terpsichore manoeuvred 
so skilfully in that terrible Atlantic weather 
to keep the weather-gauge. Sometimes she 
came so close that, but for the roar of 
the water and yell of the wind, they might 
have hailed each other ; anon she would 
seem miles away. But always she returned, 
appearing almost at the same spot — a most 
noble exhibition of seamanship, that 
repeatedly brought praise to the lips of those 
who watched — sore though their plight was. 

44 Damme," remarked old Bolger, actually 
with a note of contrition in his hoarse voice, 
44 the feller's a sailor after all, spite o' his 
haw-haw ways an' dandy togs ! Well, who'd 
ha' thought it ? Guss me, if I ain't sorry that 
we had that bit of a shine in Sydney — time 
I give him free rum ! However, he's got 
square for that since — an' boot. Gettin' lower, 
ain't she, Hopkins, this last hour or so ? " 

44 Feet;" answered the first officer, laconi- 
cally. *' She's like a Thames billyboy 'mid- 
ships and for'ard." 

** An' the win's as strong as ever," added 
the boatswain. "But hang me if I don't 
think the sea's gone down a bit ! " 

And, indeed, the great billows, in place of 
Di iy\.iOOgle 

breaking as formerly, now came in upon them 
with rounded tops like rolling downs of 
darkness, lazily, and as if bereft of all their 
late spite and vigour. 

11 If she'd had a full freight o' wool she'd 
ha' floated for days yet, maybe," said the 
mate, throwing off his bowline. 4I But it's that 
infernal dead-weight o' copper ore an' lead an' 
antimony, an' the Lord knows what, that the 
water's got amongst, and is forcing its way 
through. However, sir, here|s one who's 
going to have a swim for it in that smooth 
stuff. There's just a chance:" 

" Not me," replied old Bolger, " I'd sooner 
go down all standin'. But please yourself ; 
it's a free ship now. Halloa, what's the 
illoomination for?" As he spoke a huge 
flare lit up the sea, showing the Terpsichore 
so close to that some of the men mechanically 
shouted at her whilst she hung on top of one 
of the sluggish rounded billows, a wondrous 
figure of a ship standing out silhouetted in 
yellow flame against the black background 
of inky sky. 

44 Why," shouted a man, "sink me, if 'e 
ain't got his fore-tawp'sl to the mast ! " 

44 Dunder ! " bellowed one of the only 
two foreigners of the crew, jumping in excite- 
ment. " He vos lower de boat ! Ach Gott^ 
der prave mans as ve vos fight mit ! " 

But before one could make quite certain, 
the ship was hidden again, just a yellow 
flush in the thick air showing where she lay. 

When she rose again, however, it could be 
plainly seen that not one but two boats were 
in the water, whilst a fresh flare cast its light 
almost across the intervening stretch of sea, 
so close had the Terpsichore approached. 

44 Well, may I be drowned ! " exclaimed 
Bolger, as he eyed with amazement the 
boats, looking like white flakes on hills of 
shining ink as they toiled up one huge slope, 
hidden from sight, then shot like arrows 
adown the next in full view of the watchers, 
who swore and cheered in their excitement. 

44 Heaving lines ready for the brave 
hearties ! " shouted the mate ; " they'H be 
smashed to splinters Tf they come alongside." 

44 Why, darn my rags ! " exclaimed the 
boatswain, 44 if that ain't the skipper o' the 
Terpsick-hurry hisself at the steer oar o' 
the first boat." And with that a roaring 
cheer went up from those on the wreck, 
Bolger leading, as the skilfully-handled boats 
swept almost level with the lee poop-rail, 
and the bow oar in each, catching the lines 
flung to them, lay off from the heaving, 
crashing roll of the rising stern, to approach 
which meant instant destruction, 




It was a twenty-foot jump— but there was 
nothing else for it, as the combers by this 
time were marching in procession clean over 
the vessel amidships, whilst where they lay 
the boats were in some sort sheltered- Still 
burning tar-barrels and oakum soaked in oil, 
the Terpsichore had drifted so near that one 
could see, each time she hove up, white faces 
eagerly gazing over her rail at the weird 
scene made almost as light as day — the 
wreck submerged almost to the break of the 
poop on which a crowd of men were 
gathered, the boats rising and falling on the 
smooth-topped billows moaning in sullen, 
checked ferocity as they rolled away into the 

The first to jump was a little boy, under 
whose arms Bolger himself fastened the two 
linesj one from :i boat and the other from the 
ship, and bade him be of good cheer, for that 
there was no danger 

'* Aye, aye, sir," replied the lad, boldly, and 
without pause leapt off the rail into the top 
of a comber, whilst those on board paid out 
and the boat's crew 
hauled in. It was 
ticklish work : but 
for the light would 
have been dreadful, 
and but for the tamed 
seas impossible. 

Half - smothered, 
the youngster was 
dragged safely on 
board. The n a not her 
forecastle lad 
jumped, And then 
the men went in 
quick succession as 
both boats came into 
use. And most fortu- 
nate was it that the 
captain of the Terp- 
sichore had brought 
his second lift-boat, 
for t as Bolger, the 
last man to leave, 
was hauled in splut- 
tering, gasping, and 
snorting, the Mary 
Johnson rose her 
stern perpendicu- 
larly, stayed in that 
position a minute, 
and then disap- 

" Crumbs and 
scissors ! " growled 
Bolger, as he found 

CI M i k ROU P TO S 

his breath. (I What's come to the sea ? Ugh ! 
it's turned into a cursed oil -tank* I've 
swallowed quarts of it," 

" And no wonder, after all we've used," 
replied somebody, laughing* " I expect the 
shipTl be on short allowance of paint from 
this to home. ,, 

" So that's the wrinkle, is it ? " said 
Hopkins, " Tve heard of it, but never 
saw it used before. Anyhow, it's saved a 
crowd from feeding the fishes this good 
night of our Lord." 

The getting on board the Terpsichore was 
a difficult business. But it was over at last ; 
and, as the davit-falls were made fast, old 
Bolger, bareheaded and drippings pushed his 
way through the men to where her captain 
was standing, and, catching the other's hand 
in a great, hard grip, he shook it heartily, 
saying :— 

"Captain Wayland-Ferrars, I've got to do 
afore all hands what I never thought could 
happen* An' that is to apologize fully to ye 
for everythin' I've done and said about ye and 

your ship. You're a 
gentleman, an', sir, 
you're what's more 
— an' that's a sailor 
— man, I'm only a 
rough old shellback 
myself, sir, as has lost 
his ship an 1 had his 
day ; and I'll ask ye 
to make allowances, 
Sir, I'm proud to 
shake a man's hand 
who's proved him- 
self able an' willin' 
to do what you've 
done this night for 
me an' mine, an 1 
which there's very 
few others afloat, as 
I believe, could ha' 
done. Now, then, 
you Mary's" he con- 
tinued, "a cheer for 
the Terspk-turry an' 
her skipper, an' all 
hands belongin' to 
her. Crack your 
throats, my bullies !" 
And thus ended 
the feud between the 
Red Lion and the 
Blue Star— not yet 
by any means an old 
story upon the high 

^'Original fron 



By William G* FitzGerald. 

HE casual visitor to Bordeaux 
and its neighbourhood is apt 
to remember the district merely 
as one where the horses wear 
hats and the donkeys trousers, 
I can't stop to explain these 
things interesting though they are, because 
I am in a hurry and on stilts. In a way, I 
rent to Bordeaux on stilts, and Her Britannic 
Majesty's Consul accompanied me into the 
I^andes on the same high mission. J Tis a 
topsy-turvy country. 

To commence with, the I Andes b so called 
because it is no good as land, consisting 
mainly of vast prairies and marshes stretching 
to the horizon, and covered with heath, furze, 
reed, bracken, and broom, varied with clumps 
of sea-pine, acacia, oak t and cork. And the 
people live on stilts. Don't misunderstand 
me. They don't 
eat stilts; they 
merely pass most 
of their time upon 
them. No man (or 
woman) is above 
another in the 
Landes ; the stilts 
being of equal 
length- The post- 
man on his rounds, 
the peasa tit- wo m a n 
going to market, 
the shepherd fol- 
lowing his flocks, 
the res in -col lector 
passing from one 
pine forest to 
another — all these, 
aye* and even the 
smallest children, 
may be seen 
mounted on stilts 
in the villages of 
this most interest- 
ing Department of 
France, So much 
for my introduc- 
tion. Now for 
the races. They 
owe their origin 
to the enterprise of 
La Petite Girondt, 

the loading newspaper of the Sud-Ouest, and 
one of the ablest in all France. 

The fact is> every leading journal in the 
country was, a few years ago, bursting to 
organize races of some sort* Accordingly 
the directors of La Petite Gironde, wearied 
with reports of horse, foot, and cycle races, 
aimed at something higher, something abso- 
lutely novel Suggestions were then invited 
for the committee's consideration. One 
reader suggested a race "on the hands, 51 but 
this was scouted as likely to provoke a riot 
An offensive wag suggested a race between 
Roquefort cheeses, "ayanefa" and then the 
lists were closed. One day a I^andais peasant 
came into Bordeaux on his stilts, and the 
idea of stilt races came into being. 

The announcements were made two 
months in advance, to permit of the news 

COI^C- UP TO THE STAlcTJ^q^gf/fpQpn 




percolating through the villages of the 
Landes. Suggestions and questions rained 
upon the committee — which, by the way> 
included Sylvain Dornon 3 the baker-stilter of 
Arcachon, and the hero of the journey from 
Paris to Moscow, Intending competitors 
became rather a bore. Were the stilts to be 
of a fixed length ? Might one get off on the 
road ? Was a man with wooden legs eligible 
to take part in the stilt race ? and so on. 

At last everything was settled, and on the 
appropriate morning of Ascension Day, 1S92, 
the competitors and their friends trooped 
along the Avenue Cam at towards the 
starting-point, as is shown in the photo, 
reproduced on the preceding page, The 
course for men was from Bordeaux to 
Bayonne and Biarritz and back to Bordeaux 
(302 miles); and for women, from Bordeaux 
to C^rotis and back {37 miles). The first 
prize in the big race was 1,000 francs and a 
silver-gilt medal ; the second, 500 francs and 
a medal; and the third, 350 francs and a 
medal. To these must be added any number 
of class medals and money prizes offered by 
institutions and clubs, and a vast quantity 
of miscellaneous goods offered by tradesmen 
with an eye to advertisement 

The committee decided (1) That the stilts 
might be as long or as short as the competitor 
pleased. {2) He might carry a stick, clothes, 

provisions, repairing implements, or a change 
of stilts. {3) He might dismount now and 
then, but in such cases he must carry his 
stilts t and must, moreover, be mounted on 
them when he presented himself at the 

There were control-posts (generally cafes or 
hotels) established at twenty-two villages en 
route, and each of these stations was manned 
by cyclist volunteers belonging to various 
great clubs. These gentlemen received the 
stilters as they passed through, and besides 
taking signatures and recording times, they 
acted as special correspondents for La Petite 
Gironde^ dispatching descriptive telegrams at 
frequent intervals. Doctors were in waiting 
at some of the control-posts, and there were 
also representatives of "first-aid" societies to 
attend to sti Iters with cut or swollen feet 

Owing to the great number of entries, 
it was finally arranged that each Landais 
commune should elect its champion and pay 
his expenses right through- An expense 
fund was, however, started later on, so that 
each competitor was at least sure of receiving 
his railway fare to and from Bordeaux, 

In the next photo* we see a party of com- 
petitors just arriving at the starting-point in 
the Avenue Thiers, Bordeaux. The interest 
taken in the race is manifested by the great 
crowd, who not only filled the streets but 



Original from 



also the balconies and windows of private 
houses, cafes, and hotels. 

I have already hinted that the tradespeople 
of Bordeaux made a brave show in the matter 
of gifts. A tailor on the Cours d'Alsace- 
I^orrairie, announcing himself as a lover of 
all sportSj offered un magnifique costume^ 
fait sur mesa re \ Other sartorial artists 
followed suit— if I may say so — until at 
length it looked as though the peasants from 
the I^andes would all return home in new 

The Municipality of Bordeaux contributed 
ioo francs and two medals. One, Pelala, a 
merchant of Bergerac, offered " twelve bottles 
of my nourishing Anisette/' A man at 
Barbae would give a glass of Haut Sauterne 

Podensac, who offered a prize of 50 francs 
for the last stilter who should arrive at the 
post before the closing of the rare. {" CVi/ 
Pechassier Mkhom" murmured the courteous 
editor of La Petite Giro tide, " qui a profit e de 
Cttte auhaine imspiree?} 

The accompanying photo, shows a repre- 
sentative group of competitors in real march- 
ing order. When on their native heath the 
long stick becomes a third leg, fitting into 
the stilter's back and supporting him on a 
sort of tripod, whilst with his disengaged 
hands he rapidly knits one of the footless 
stockings peculiar to the I^andes. These 
fellows have great distances to cover ; hence 
the stilts. The blacken and heather are 
often wet and the plains swampy ; hence, 

i hi-: ".1 kv i"i i.m rKTtTi'j^. 


to each stilter, whom he would not detain 
more than five seconds. Considerate man ! 
A bronze medal was offered to all competitors 
who, starting off on Thursday, May 26th, 
when the flag fell, returned to the starting- 
point, after having accomplished the journey, 
on Thursday, June 2nd, before 9 p.m., Paris 

The number of medals offered by various 
bodies increased at quite an alarming rate. 
There was one for the youngest stilter who 
accomplished the journey in the specified 
time; and another for the oldest. There 
were medals offered by various towns en route 
for the first stilter to arrive there ; and there 
were medals for the champion of the Depart- 
ments of the Landes and Gironde. Nor 
must we omit mention of a M Castera, re- 
presenting the firm of Lillet Frferes, of 

Digitized by LiOOfl lc 

again, the stilts. The sheep are often con- 
cealed among the undergrowth; hence — for 
ihe third time — the stilts. 

Really the preliminaries were almost as 
interesting as the race itself. The keejier of 
the Anglo-American bar offered to each 
competitor "two excellent ham sandwiches/' 
A private enthusiast placed at the disposal of 
the winner a gorgeously-furnished flat, with 
the use of bath-room and masseur. Watch- 
makers, perfumers, boot-makers, hatters, and, 
in short, tradesmen of all kinds sent along 
or promised specimens of their wares to the 
valiant sti Iters, 

There were in all eighty -one entries and 
sixty-nine starters ; thus twelve forfeited the 
entrance-fee. In jhe interval between the 
first announcement and the race, intending 
competitors had gone into training. The 





Petite Gironde correspondent, writing from 
Tartas (Landes), described several test races 
between as many as fifteen and twenty 

Let me show you a few of the lady stilt- 
racers. Their course was one of thirty-seven 
miles only (Hordeaux-Cfrons and back), and 
was intended to be run in the day, so that 
the women's homes might not suffer through 
their absence. When they heard of the 
tnerrs race, they refused to be kept out in 
the cold. Alto- 
gether eighteen 
women entered* 

The rules which 
governed the 
men's contest ap- 
plied equally to 
the women. They 
set off" about a 
quarter of an hour 
after their male 
colleagues. The 
first prize in the 
women's contest, 
by the way, was 
ioo francs, the 
second 60 francs, 
the third 40 francs, 
and so on. There 
were ten consola- 
tion prizes of 10 
francs each, and 
as there was no 

en trance -fee, 

things looked very promising for the 
ladies. Here I may as well point out the 
winners. The first woman, counting from 
the left-hand side of the photo. , is Marie 
Pascal, of Lanton, who fairly romped in an 
easy first. The sixth in the line is Eline 
Bos, also of Lanton. She came in second. 
The strong-faced woman, standing third in 
the line, came from the same town, curiously 
enough. Her name is Jeanne Prevot, and 
she wns the third to arrive. 



1 they're <>ff !" 

Original from 



When at length all competitors were mar- 
shalled in line, a pistol was fired, and the queer 
cavalcade set off leisurely down the beautiful 
Cours de Tin tendance, or Regent Street of 
Bordeaux, We see them in the photo, at the 
bottom of the preceding page. The traders 
of the Sud-Ousst made special offers to the 
ladies. There were boxes of biscuits and 
sweets, cloth stuffs and bonnets ; fans, lace 
fichus, and the like. One man offered — a 
little unfortunately perhaps -four cases of 
soap to the first four ladies —possibly a nasty 
allusion to the winners condition. 

The next photo* to be reproduced shows a 
typical scene en rmte. It was taken at 

Biarritz, Pierre Deycard, of Bilos (the first 
prize winner), was treated with an eau de 
Cologne and brandy friction by the head 
controller, who happened also to be a doctor. 
During the progress of the race, there was 
but one question on the lips of the Bordelais : 
Qui gagnera? It was duubtfpl all through. 
The stilter seen most prominently in the last 
photo, we reproduced is a I^indais shepherd 
named Dominique Roumegoux, of Yehoux* 
He held the lead for a long time and was 
terribly anxious to win, his master having 
promised him, in that event, 100 francs over 
and above everything else. On arriving at Dax, 
Roumegoux had a noticeable fixity of ex- 


Bouscaut, thirteen kilometres from Bordeaux. 
The cyclist is a member of the editorial staff 
of La Petite Gironde. But there were scores 
of other volunteer cyclist -referees who accom- 
panied the stilters. Sometimes the stilts 
broke, although they were made of strong 
ash. The men would then halt for repairs 
and seize the opportunity of taking a meal — 
soup and fried eggs, perhaps, with coffee and 
white wine* The whole race was a triumphal 
progress for the lucky La n dais, who certainly 
never before had had such a good time, 
First arrivals at various control-posts were 
presented with bouquets, laurel wreaths, and 
more substantial tokens in the shape of free 
rations and money. Others frankly touted 
for contributions in the towns, and made a 
grand thing of it 

Although the men had bits of rubber on the 
ends of their stilts to deaden concussion, 
they suffered greatly from a kind of paralysis 
of the legs, and also sore and chafed feet, 
Every care was taken of them, however, At 

by L^OOgle 

pression, through lack of sleep ; whilst his 
immediate rivals (Dugrand and Peyserre) 
arrived quite gay, the latter dancing a pas 
sea i on his stilts, after signing at the control- 
post, and exchanging news with great volubi- 
lity and vivacity. Poor Jean Cailliard, the 
oldest man who took part in the race, was 
utterly done up when he arrived at Orthez, 
185 kilometres from the starting-point. He 
hustled off to bed, poor chap, and went 
home by the four o'clock train next day, 
cursing horribly. He told how, when he 
was, so to speak, on his last legs, the village 
wags cried, " Awutcez I " 4t Recukz ! " li A 
droik J r ' 7 " A gauche!" and thought it the 
funniest thing in the world If they had only 
known how little military celerity there was 
left in Jean Cailliard f s aching limbs ! 

There was a vast deal of excitement in 
Bordeaux from day to day during the race* 
The palatial offices of la Petite Girondc were 
besieged day and night by a surging crowd, 
which eagerly read the telegrams and betted 
Original from 




freely according to their fancy. In the office 
windows were shown a model pair of stilts 
and a support as used in the Landes by the 
shepherds and resin-gatherers, This model 
was made by the veteran khasskr Sylvain 
Dorncn, acting under instructions from 
the committee. The staying 
power of the ladies varied very 
much, Some fell out, dis- 
couraged, after the first few 
miles. Mile. Eline Bos, how- 
ever, was as earnest as she was 
experienced. She is shown in 
the accompanying photo* on the 
left-hand side, and she came in 
second in the race. This phot o, 
was taken by an amateur 3 M. 
Rene Mimer, of Bordeaux, to 
whom I am very greatly indebted 
for information and assistance. 

The stilt race of 1892 demon- 
strated the wonderful endurance 
oF the Landais peasants, both 
male and female. If one takes 
into consideration the great heat 
that prevailed, the hardness of 
the roads, the speed to be main- 
tained if one aspired to win, and 

the scanty allowance of food, drink, and 
sleep, one cannot but marvel at the hardi- 
hood of these people. Out of sixty nine 
male starters, thirty -two accomplished the 
enormous journey of 490 kilometres in 
the fixed time of eight days and a half. 
Certainly many suffered great fatigue, and 
some complained of numbness ; but none 
were seriously ill. One or two had at 
length to climb down and walk, vanquished 
by the fierce sun. 

It is an interesting fact that at first 
the men's route was simply Bordeaux, 
Bayonne, and back ; but the authorities 
at Biarritz begged that the course might 
be extended to their most beautiful town, 
particularly as they were just then enter- 
taining His Majesty King Oscar II. of 
Sweden, and they wanted that monarch 
to see the sti Iters. The concession was 
granted. Another ten miles (16 kilo- 
metres) were added to the course, and a 
proportionate time -allowance granted to 
the competitors. By way of a return 
compliment, the astute authorities of 
Biarritz contributed 150 francs towards 
the excuses, and offered the use of the 
Mairie as a control-post 

The winner of the ladies' race — Marie 
Pascal, of Lanton — is seen in the next 
photo. Notice that she is attended by an 
official pace-maker, or referee, mounted on a 
bicycle, besides a number of idlers in carts. 
Mile. Pascal is passing through the village of 
Pont de la Maye in long, swinging strides, 
and already she feels pretty sure of win- 
ning not only the first prize, but also the 



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extra twenty - five francs offered by the 
municipality of Cerons to the first woman- 
stilter who should arrive at the control-post 
in that town. As a matter of fact, from first 
to last, the prizes had been steadily growing* 
" Le Veloce- Sport," " Le Sport du Sud- 
Ouest ct du Midi," and a score of other big 
clubs came forward with offers of medals, 
money, and assistance as volunteer scouts 
and correspondents. Then, again, forfeited 
entrance-fees went to swell the prize list ; 
and, lastly, there was a vast accumulation 
of merchandize, ranging from an enormous 
square of linoleum to a dainty pair of Russian- 
leather shoes. 

The race was beautifully engineered by the 
promoters. There was a roll-call, or M dress- 
rehearsal," the day before the race, and there 
were at least two state processions of the 
mounted competitors round the boulevards 
of the city. There were several fine bands 
in attendance, many of these volunteered, 
and, of course, huge crowds of pleasure- 
loving Bordelais, the great event being held 
on a fete-day. 

The next reproduction is from one of 
M. Ren£ Minier's photos. In it are seen, on 

JEAN LAFONT Attn AtfTOlhrfc DUCifcAbTD. 

ihe left, Jean I.afont, of Mias (Gironde), and 
next to him Antoine Dugrand, of Sore 
(Undes), respectively second and third in the 
Bordeaux- Biarritz race. They are plodding 
along together with amazing persistency. 
I fear these worthies and their comrades did 
not make such good time as they might have 
done, mainly by reason of the lavish hospi- 


talities offered them. You must remember 
that each control-post was a cafi or an hotel, 
and the proprietors thereof (perhaps with an 
eye to business) were over pressing with 
their wines and consommations. Then, again, 
private persons were equally generous, so 
that what with drink, the anticipation of 
winning, and the general uproar and excite- 
ment, the bewildered l^andais peasants 
failed to put their best stilt forward through 
sheer inability to know what they were doing. 
Which reminds me of an interesting remark 
made to me by the mayor of La Teste. At 
Christmas, it seems the Landais folk get 
elevated in sense not connected with stilts, 
To speak plainly, they have been seen help- 
lessly drunk, reeling about from one side of 
the road to the other- -on stilts! How they 
manage to keep upright is a miracle. 

But to return to Lafont and Dugrand* 
The former won a silver-gilt medal and 500 
francs, and the latter a medal and 250 francs, 
besides a substantial share of miscellaneous 
prize money and goods. Roumfegoux, the 
I.andais shepherd who strove so earnestly 
to win, received a consolation prize of a 
medal and 135 francs. Lafont, at the close 
of the race, sold his stilts 
(which lie made himself, as 
they all do) to a shesp keeper 
on the Cours de Plntend- 
ance. Clearly the unsophis- 
ticated peasants "\new 
something " — to quote an 
expressive colloquialism. At 
any rate* Lafont had covered 
on his 112 kilometres in 
sixteen hours. His number 
was nineteen, and of course 
- — like the jest — he carried 
a book of rules for his 
guidance, as well as a map 
of the course. These 
maps, by the way, were 
sold to the public at fifty 
centimes each. lafont is 
twenty -eight years of age. 
He finished the race on 
May 30th at 9.38 p. in., 
his time being loShr. 
Dugrand, I.afonfs companion for the 
greater part of the way, reached the winning- 
post at twenty minutes past two in the morn- 
ing of the 31st (1 i2hr, 50mm.). He arrived 
on his stilts with a firm and rapid step. He 
was accompanied by a crowd of cyclists and 
pedestrians, who sang and cheered him 
alternately. Dr. Tissie, one of the committee, 






- ■ *3lB 

pi- - "*9 

v . "-?^B 

1 ^^l 

:". ."^H 







w^W f 

L :,,-_ 





received each stilter, and examined him to 
ascertain the state of his heart, his pulse, his 
legs, and general condition, Dugrand had 
only had eight hours' sleep since he left 
After having signed the register and partaken 
of food, he went off in a fiacre with a self- 
seeking hotel proprietor, whose guest he was 
to be for some days. The carriage way 
escorted at a walking pace by a tumultuous 

The next photo, shows Mile. Eline Bos 
(in the big hat) and her sister, just after 
leaving the last control-post on the home- 
ward journey. This is the village of Pont 

de la Maye, seven 
kilometres from Bor- 
deaux. Eline Bus, 
you will remember, 
came in second in 
the ladies' race. 
When the women- 
stilters had run their 
race, they remained 
in the city and had 
a t£ real good time " 
all the week. Their 
presence (on stilts) 
fanned the excite- 
ment of the populace 
to fever heat, until 
the sole topic of 
conversation was the 
course des kkasskrs 
— people could think 
of nothing else. The 
women had many 
relatives — husbands 
and brothers — in the great race ; and since 
it cost the stilteresses nothing to live in 
Bordeaux, they waited there for the male 
competitors, and even went out many kilo- 
metres from the boulevard to meet them. 

In the next photo, is shown the arrival of 
the winner of the great long-distance race at 
the control-post at Langon, The referees 
sat under a big tree near the Cafe de Com- 
merce, A table was spread here with roast 
and boiled chickens, soups, beefsteaks, and 
other substantial viands. The control-posts 
were decorated with announcement placards, 
flags, and lanterns. Here is a specimen 

-jfl^Pt if jm 

9 -t" ^^^B 

t ^ 


* , ^— - " ' 



f~* f\f\ct 1 ■■ Original from 




despatch from one of these stations to the 
head offices of La Petite Gir&ndcy in Bor- 
deaux : " Villandrant y 28 MaL Duhet^ 
premier etkassier, passe a cinq heures irente 
cinq minutes. Reparti aussitdt Ugertment 

Dubetj by the way, had had rather a 
bad fall through the breaking of his left stilt 
when only a few hundred metres from Villan- 
drant He was delayed some time making 
the necessary repairs. This man is seen in 
the next photo., which shows four stilters 
passing through a village very near Bordeaux. 

St, Vincent de Terosse he was followed 
by musicians, who played " La Marseillaise " 
with so great an effect upon the crowd, 
that one gave him ten francs, another 
twenty, and so on. At Dax he found 200 
people waiting for him. He was too fatigued 
to notice them, and had to ask his cycling 
escort to roar at him in order to keep him 
awake. He even dozed on his stilts, still 
striding mechanically. Camphorated brandy 
frictions were tried, to get rid of the cramp 
that threatened him. Young girls came out 
to meet him with laurel wreaths and bouquets. 


Dubet is the hatless and coatless man, third 
from the right. Behind are seen some of the 
women-folk on stilts, doubtless eagerly dis- 
cussing the chances of their relatives and 
fellow-villagers. The stilt-walker {echassier) on 
the extreme right, silhouetted sharply against 
the sky, is the first prize winner and champion 
of all, Pierre Deycard, of Bilos, commune of 
Salles, Department of the Gironde. He won 
the most valuable of all the many medals, 
besides a thousand francs, and the lion's share 
of the minor prize money and gifts in kind. 
His number was fifty-one and his age thirty- 
one. He arrived on May 30th, at two minutes 
to five in the evening, only a few hours 
ahead of Lafont. His time was lojhrs, 
j6mm + , and his average, 4 kilometres 
9jS metres an hour, including stops. His 
progress was a veritable tour de force. He 
was terribly anxious to win. His short 
snatches of sleep were broken by dreams, 
in which he seemed to be buying cows 
with the prize money and settling down 
to married life with his sweetheart, At 

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and everywhere he was hailed like a conquer- 
ing Roman general. 

Deycard was at length signalled on the 
Toulouse road, sixteen kilometres out of 
Bordeaux. Sixty cyclists rode forth to meet 
him, and hundreds of pedestrians also left 
the city. At last they met the champion. 
He was walking in the shade with a firm, 
regular step that bespoke rigid training, 
method, and experience. He wore a light 
jacket of flannel, and his head was enveloped 
m w T et handkerchiefs. As he drew near the 
city the crowd increased to such an extent so 
that you could have stilted on the people's 
heads, to say nothing of the carriages* 
Children were almost crushed to death in the 
gr&t concourse. After being photographed 
in the courtyard, he got off his stilts and 
went into a room set apart for him at the 
offices of La Petite Gironde, 

"Pulse 129 beats, heart 120 per minute," 

said Dr. Tissie. "A little swelling in the 

right foot. Wiry, muscular man- grand type 

of the Landais," 

Original from 




Then followed cordials, a sponge bath, and 
a change of underclothes. Next his self- 
appointed host claimed him, and bore him 
away in a carriage to the hotel, which was 
illuminated with coloured lamps in the shape 
of stilts. Deycard then partook of some 
chicken broth and old Burgundy {what a 
time !), after which he had 6^ hours' sleep. 
Here is Pierre Deycard in full marching 
order. Asked what was his most remarkable 
experience en route^ he said it was his being 
taken to an hotel, treated to a banquet of 

select champions from among the sti Iters who 
had distinguished themselves in 1892, This 
race was between three stilt-walkers, three 
pedestrians , and three horses. The winner 
was a horse named " Charlatan/' who did the 
273 miles in 6zhrs. 27mm. Next to arrive 
was the sti It- walker, Fauconneau. The third 
and fourth arrivals were also stilters (l)ubet 
and Desarnaud). Fauconneau arrived only 
half an hour after fi Charlatan/' The first 
pedestrian, Dufour, of Rouen, took ioShrs. 
Only one horse and two [>edestiians finished 


fifteen courses, with choice wines, and then 
made to parade the town with a bank-note 
for 1,000 francs pinned on his chest 

There were other stilt races in subsequent 
years. In 1893 came one from Bordeaux to 
Montauban and back, 273 miles. There 
were 103 starters, The next year brought a 
complete change of plan. So great was the 
number of entries and the difficulty of keep- 
ing order in the city, that it was resolved to 

the race, whereas all three stilters came in 
well within the time limit. 

It only remains for me to thank in the 
most cordial manner the British Consul in 
Bordeaux, Mr, Walter R. Hearn, whose 
invaluable assistance and kind hospitality I 
greatly appreciated during my stay in the city. 
Truly, Mr. H cam's cheery presence, able 
counsel, and great experience are a priceless 
blessing to his " stranded JI countrymen. 

by Google 

Original from 

A Despot on Tour. 

By George Gissing. 

company, touring with a brace 
of comedies which in London 
had long outworn their vogue, 
arrived at Wattleborough. They 
were to play two evenings, and 
the box-office made a fair report. 

Not every actor who would enrolled him- 
self in Mr. Hawker's company. The veteran 
left no one in doubt as to his estimate of 
this privilege; he uttered his views on the 
present state of the profession with a vigour 
and perspicuity which in part resulted from 
his failure to achieve distinction on the 
boards, and partly explained it. Managers, 
he declared, were nowadays mere shop- 
keepers ; he loathed their respectability and 
their unscrupulousness. Of genuine actors, 
he asserted that the breed had all but died 
out ; men and women on the stage aimed at 
nothing but pecuniary and social success. 
Naturally, he found it difficult to collect, and 
harder still to hold together, a company after 
his own mind. His crustiness was not molli- 
fied by the attacks of gout which, with other 
considerations, had led him to abandon acting ; 
he merely commanded, and whoever enlisted 
under his banner, leading men or insignifi- 
cant recruits, became subjects to a rigid 
discipline. Mrs. Hawker, the second of that 
name, a middie-iaged but still handsome 
woman, alone preserved her independent 
dignity ; the despot never allowed himself to 
criticise, and rarely suspected that her acting 
gave any opportunity for censure. If news- 
paper men chanced to think differently in 
this matter, he loudly condemned them to 
everlasting perdition. 

The first night at Wattleborough was 
encouraging : a house nearly full, much 
spplause, and Mrs. Hawker particularly well 
received. At ten o'clock next morning, as 
he and his wife were breakfasting together 
at their hotel, Mr. Hawker was told that a 
young lady wished to speak with him. 

" A young lady ? What name ? " 

u No name, sir. Wishes to see you in 

The manager looked at his wife, and 

" Stage-stricken damsel, ten to one. May 
as well see her." 

The stranger was standing alone in the 
ladies' sitting-room, and his first glance 
assured Mr. Hawker that he had to do with 

Vol XT.- 

by Google 

no barmaid or milliner s assistant A young 
lady, this, in the strict sense of the word ; 
perfectly dressed, comely of countenance, and 
her age not more than seventeen. The 
manager made his stateliest bow. 

" Madam, I am Mr. Howard Hawker. 
How can I be so happy as to serve you?" 

A profound agitation made the young lady 
incapable of replying. Mr. Hawker placed a 
chair for her, and spoke a few more words of 
reassuring civility. 

"I cannot tell you my name," said the 
other, at length, abruptly, but in a very 
pleasant voice. " I have come to ask you — 
to beg your advice. I wish to become an 
actress. Please don't think I have foolish 
ideas." Mr. Hawker smiled. "I know 
quite well that I should have to begin 
in the very humblest way. I am quite 
ready for that." 

"You are aware, my dear young lady, that 
the profession is crowded ?" 

"Oh, yes, I know it very well. But so 
many people, I believe, go into the profession 
in the wrong spirit. They think it is the short 
cut to— to all sorts of things. It's quite 
different with me. I like acting for its own 
sake ; I do, indeed — I have taken part in 
private theatricals, and people seemed to 
think I didn't do badly. I don't want to 
play Juliet? She laughed with pretty con- 
fusion. "I'm a very practical person — if you 
only knew, I'm ready to work hard for years, 
if necessary." 

The manager's eyes twinkled with sympa- 
thetic interest. 

" Ah ! Come now ! If you really mean 
that. That's the spirit. I wish to Heaven 
I heard more of that kind of thing." 

The young lady reddened. 

" You are willing to help me ? " she 
exclaimed, eagerly. 

" Wait. I mustn't inspire false hopes. I 
presume you are not of age yet ? " 

" Oh, dear, no ! I shall be seventeen in a 
few days. Am I too young ? " 

The vivacity of her features, the quality of 
her voice, her modest yet spirited bearing, 
impressed the veteran very favourably indeed. 
He felt sure that the case was hopeless : an 
army of relatives lurked somewhere in the 
background, and would allow him no chance 
of enlisting this delightful girl, but he dallied 
with the tempting thought. 

" Not a bit of it ; the younger the better. 

Original from 



" AkE VntT FREE TO CHlh»sE A i'kOFfc&iiJOti * " 

But— pardon these necessary questions -are 
you free to choose a profession ? "' 

"I consider myself quite free, 71 she answered, 
resolutely, and with a knitting of the brows. 
" I have only a little money, but, if it were 
impossible to support myself, I could I 
fod sure I could— manage to live for a year 
or two." 

Mr. Hawker reflected, 

" I have a suggestion to make. As I'd 
rather busy, would you talk with my wife, 
with Mrs. Hawker? I think it would be the 
best way. Something might be " 

The young lady readily assented, her face 
glowing in delighted anticipation, Having 
withdrawn, the manager held a quick conver- 
sation with his wife, and Mrs. Hawker spent 
nearly nn hour, privately talking with the 

'" I know all '. " she exclaimed, with bur- 
lesque profundity of note, on joining her 
husband again, "Just as you thought. 
Daughter of a big man — country house a 
few miles away no mother — heavy father 
she can't get un with. Yesterday she came 
on a visit for a lew days to friends in Wattle- 
borough, and they were at the theatre last 
night. Before leaving home, she had made 
up her mind to bolt ; but nobody knows. 
Packed her bag for the visit as full as it 
would hold, and thinks she can get it away 
from her friend's house." 

*' Yes. No good, of course. A V hat's her 
father's name ? T 

by Google 

£l Major Sax by, Medio w House." 

"By Gad, Til go and see him I Who 
knows ? He might consent " 

11 Rubbish ! She's the only child." 

*■ I shall go and see him. In any case, it's 
the right tiling lo do. If we send her away, 
ten to one shell take train for London. A 
determined little wench, and, by (iad, has 
the right stuff in her. Too risky to let her 
go off on her own hook. The Major likely 
to be at home ? w 

*M only know he was there yesterday/ 1 

They consulted a railway-guide. Med low- 
Station was some six miles away, and there 
was a train presently. Mrs. Hawker, they 
arranged, should take Miss Sax by round to 
the theatre, and amuse her for as long as 
possible, then bring her back to the hotel for 

"Of course, I promised her faithfully to 
keep the secret/' &aid the actress. 

M Oh, of course. I'll come round the 
Major. Always get on well with old military 
coves. Hell be glad enough to know she 
came to an honest man.' 1 

Mr. Hawker took the train to Medlow, 
and at about one o'clock walked up the 
drive, a noble avenue of beeches, which led 
to Major Saxby's house. To his satisfaction, 
the Major was at home ; but t when he sent 
in a card — a professional one — the servant 
came back with an unfavourable countenance. 
(i Would he make known his business?" 

"To the Major himself," replied Mr- 
Original from 



Hawker, with sudden warmth; u certainly not 
to anyone else." 

*'Then I am afraid Major Saxby cannot 
see you ; he is engaged/' 

"Young man, you will be good enough to 
tell your master that Mr. Howard Hawker 
has come from Wattle borough to see him on 
very special business — very special business, 

The servant carried this message, and it 

take the trouble of writing to you I Good 

It was the encounter of two potentates, 
peppery both of them, and neither accustomed 
to give way In a contest Major Saxby 
despised the "actor fellow," and felt sure his 
alleged business was a mere pretence. Mr- 
Howard Hawker cursed the haughty aristo- 
crat, and chuckled fiercely at the thought of 
his power to be revenged. It was all over in 


was effectual. Mr. Hawker passed through 
the great hall, entered the library, and found 
himself face to face with a tall, thin, choleric- 
looking man, who spoke at once in a high 
voice not too studiously modulated, 

"Now, sir, pray be as brief as you can. I 
am on the point of leaving for London, and 
have only five minutes to spare." 

The manager, whose blood was already 
heated, glared at the peremptory gentleman. 

"Sir, if you have no time to spare* my 
business had better be postponed. I am not 
in the habit of hurrying myself." 

11 Then be good enough to leave me," said 
the Major, with barely restrained wrath, 
"and, if you will, communicate with me in 

"Sir," shouted the manager, "I'll leave 
you quickly enough, but I'm bothered if I 

by Google 

a moment. The manager, as no train served 
for his return, took a fly to Wattle borough, 
and vowed that Major Saxby should pay for iL 

Tired, hungry, divided between wrath and 
glee, he reached the hotel, where Mrs. Hawker 
and Miss Saxby were at lunch in a private 
room. With an apology for his lateness, he 
sat down and ate heartily, addressing now 
and then a friendly word to his guest, who 
was nervous but exhilarated* 

11 Young lady," he said, at length, leaning 
hack and assuming a grave visage, "are you 
still in the same mind?" 

" Indeed, I am." 

u Then " — he glanced at his wife — ** allow 
me to make a suggestion. To-morrow is 
Sunday, and by the 9. 15 we leave for Milling- 
ton, where we shall give, as here, two per- 
formances. Now, I am able to offer you a 

Original from 



part — a very small part, but still a part — in 
the piece we give at Millington on Monday 
night. You will easily learn your words ; you 
come on only once, and there will be plenty 
of time for me to put you in the way of it. 
What do you say to this ? " 

It took the girl's breath away, and had 
scarcely less effect upon Mrs. Hawker, who 
in vain tried to read her husband's face. 

" You are very kind," faltered the aspirant. 

" Do you shirk it, young lady? Are you 
afraid ? " 

" No, no ; I accept, with gratitude ! " 

" Good ! Consider it settled." He waved 
a royal hand. " Now pray tell me whether 
you live in Wattleborough. Should you 
prefer to remain here quietly at the hotel till 
to-morrow morning ? Or have you arrange- 
ments to make?" 

Miss Saxby, pale but self-possessed, was 
ready with her reply. She had friends in the 
town whom she must see, but she would 
return to the hotel to pass the night This 
being approved, she took leave, with abund- 
ant thanks, and the manager was able to give 
his wife an explanation of what he had done. 
Walking about the room, he told the story of 
Major Saxby's insolent behaviour, and gloried 
in the revenge he was about to take. Miss 
Saxby should tread the boards of the Queen's 
Theatre, Millington, come of it what might. 
The stiff-necked old aristocrat had gone to 
London, where, if he stayed for a day or two, 
startling news would reach him. 

Mrs. Hawker entered into the jest, but not 
without anxiety. The young lady's plan, she 
said, was to escape from her friends at 
\\ T attleborough on the pretence that she felt 
uneasy after a fit of ill-temper in which she 
had parted with her father, and must go 
home to make it up ; that she would get 
away by train, travel to London, where a 
friend would receive her, and there think 
of the next step. This, if Mr. Hawker could 
give her no help. After what had happened, 
she would somehow adapt the scheme to the 
circumstances, being a decidedly ingenious 
young woman. 

Now, Miss Saxby's disappearance from the 
house of her friends, people living in a 
remote part of the town, had caused surprise 
and uneasiness, which was not diminished by 
the arrival of a telegram for her. This des- 
patch was to inform her that her father had 
suddenly been called to London, and on 
opening it, which she did instantly, before 
uttering a word as to her singular behaviour, 
the young lady saw a good opportunity of 
gaining the end she had in view. 

by Google 

" I can't tell you what it is," she exclaimed, 
with a face which would have delighted Mr. 
Hawker, " but it's from father, and I must 
go home as soon as possible. Mysteries as 
usual, yes," she added, smiling. " All I can 
say is, that before I came away, father and I 
had one of our worst quarrels, and I think 
it'll be all right now if I go back this after- 
noon. No, I can't tell you where I have 
been this morning. Mysteries again. I'm 
the most mysterious person you ever knew." 

She kept the telegram tight in her hand, 
and talked on as if suddenly relieved from 
some oppression of spirits. The friends had 
no choice but to let her depart ; she was, 
presently, accompanied to the station, and 
seen off to Medlow. Here she would gladly 
have alighted, to steal home and pack more 
of her possessions, for never was young lady 
of seventeen more desperately resolved to 
escape from domestic rule ; but, though 
her father had gone away, her severe 
aunts, two in number, reigned at Medlow 
House. So she had no choice but to 
travel farther on, to wait at an unknown 
station, and, long after nightfall, journey 
back to Wattleborough, where, with joy and 
tremors, she regained the hotel. There was 
now little danger of discovery before she had 
got away and begun her professional career 
— her professional career ! To - morrow 
morning, it being Sunday, she would easily, 
with a little veiling of the face, avoid all risks 
on the way to the station. And at Millington, 
twenty miles distant, not a soul knew her. 

That same night, when he returned from 
the theatre, Mr. Hawker showed her the part 
she was to play at Millington. It consisted 
of some thirty words, uttered by half-dozens. 
She took the copy to bed, and did not sleep 
until she knew the speeches perfectly. 

She was to be called Miss Woodward, a 
name of her choosing from a book she had 
recently read. With Miss Woodward the 
chief members of the company were next 
day made acquainted, as they travelled to 
Millington, and all of them knew that their 
manager had a joke in hand, though they 
were not permitted to taste its full flavour. 
The young lady tried to see these new friends 
in a light of sympathy and admiration, but, 
even before reaching the journey's end, she 
found herself regretting their faults of manner, 
their defective education. She was under 
Mrs. Hawker's wing, and everyone behaved 
to her with entire respect ; yet the result oi 
this morning's experience was undeniable 
disillusion. Moreover, she had a slight 
headache, enough, of course, to account for 

Original from 




her not viewing the prospect quite so hope- 
ful I y as yesterday. 

At Millington. early in the afternoon, Mr. 
Hawker invited her to step round with him 
to the theatre, where they found two or three 
iik'n lounging and talking amid a dim lit 
wilderness which made her heart sink. After a 
word or two with these individuals the manager 
conducted her to a room, where there was, 
at all events, daylight, though the window 
seemed not to have heen cleaned for years. 

" Here we can have a quiet little rehearsal,' 3 
he said T genially. ** Afterwards, we'll goon 
u> the stage, and you shall learn to walk. 
Ves, learn to walk, my dear young lady ; or, 
rather, make a beginning of learning. You 
thought you cm* id walk ? Ha, 
ha* tt'e shall see* we shall 

The quiet little rehearsnl 
bsted rather more than two 
hours, anil was a more 
horrible ordeal than Miss 
Saxby had ever conceived, 
Altogether losing sight of the 
bet that he could not hope 
to retain her in his company, 
that he was merely anxious 
la exasperate her father, Mr. 
Hawker put the girl through 
his very severest drill It 
annoyed him, to start with, 
when he found her by no 
means so bright ns at their 
first meeting : he would make 
do allowance for the circum- 
stances. Possessed by artistic 
fury, he insisted on drawing 
out, at once, all the ability 
he divined as lurking in her. 
The flatness and awkward- 
ness with which she spoke her 
phrases— for the manager's 
stem aspect of business 
utterly disconcerted her — 
soon drove him out of 
patience. Uy the exertion of 
marvellous self-restraint, Mr. 
Hawker used no oaths, but 
his denunciation, his mockery. 
his attitudes which seemed to threaten 
personal violence, brought the victim all but 
to a fainting state. And at length she burst 
ifHo tears, 

"Come, come ' Pooh, pooh/' He shook 
her shoulder paternally. "What's all this? 
*'as I rather rough ? " 

The miserable young lady pleaded her 

" Headache ! n he echoed, reproach fully. 
"I hope you're not subject to that — kind of 
thing? We'll goon to the stage; the fresh 
air will do you good." 

He led her out of the now dusky room 
into a darkness so complete that only by 
striking a match could he find his way. On 
the stage, by a yellow flare of gas, a carpenter 
was doing some sort of work, and another 
man, smoking a pipe, idly watched him. 
Before these people, Miss Saxhy received her 
first lesson in deportment, which Listed an 
hour It was an effort of heroism, for she felt 
scarcely able to stand ; but the manager gave 
her a word of praise now and then, and be- 
haved less violently than in the private room* 


by Google 

"Well, that'll do for the present," he said, 
at length. "To-morrow morning you will be 
here with the company at ten-" 

She returned to the hotel, drank a cup 
of tea, and went to bed. A coward hope 
that she might be too ill to get up to- 
morrow was her only consolation as she lay 
through the long hours, crying and suffering. 
But sleep came, and on Monday morning 

Original from 



Mrs, Hawker's kind attentions partly restored 
her to a hopeful frame of mind* It was a 
day of painful effort and harassing emotions. 
Before the whole company she had to go 
through her wretched little part ; now shrinking 
with shame, now over-bold by mere force of 
desperation. The words grew hateful to her 
ears. A contemptuous smile on the face of 
the actress with whom her scene was played 
made her feel the meanest of mortals, and 
more than once she was sorely tempted 
to flee from the theatre, to escape and 
hide herself anywhere- But in the end 
the manager declared himself pretty well 
satisfied, and, haranguing the company, 
lauded her spirit of perseverance, 

Ky this time it was known at Med low 
House that Miss Saxby had disappeared from 
Wattleborough, On Monday morning, one 
of the aunts received a letter, in which an 
account was given of the young lady's sudden 
departure for home, with private comments 
on the singularity of her manner. In an hour 
or two her falsehoods were disclosed, and 
alarm was at its height. A telegram to the 


Major at his London hotel remained un- 
answered ; owing to his movements in town, 
he did not receive it till late at night 
Travelling by the newspaper train on Tuesday 
morning, the enraged and anxious father 
reached home about nine o'clock. No news 
had arrived ; no conjecture as to the girl's 

by Google 

whereabouts could be formed. But at this 
moment came the postman, and among the 
letters delivered was one which Major Saxby 
read with tumultuous feelings. 

u Sir," wrote his correspondent, "though 
your behaviour when I recently called upon 
you would be quite sufficient to excuse my 
silence, I will not leave you ignorant of the 
gratifying fact that your daughter makes her 
first appearance, this evening, on the stage of 
the Queen's Theatre, Millington, Her part 
is a small one, but you will understand that 
this could not he otherwise. The young 
lady shows an admirable spirit, and 1 have 
spared no pains in preparing her for her 
dihuL With perseverance, I have no doubt 
whatever that she may become an ornament 
of the noble profession she has adopted. 
Offering you my sincere congratulations, 
" I am, sir, 

" Faithfully yours, 

u Howard Hawker. 1 ' 
Thrusting this letter into his pocket, and 
without a word of information to the dis- 
tracted ladies, Major Saxby rushed from the 

house. He 
drove post- 
haste into 
and there 
caught a train 
for MiUingtoa. 
Before noon 
he arrived at 
the Queen's 
Theatre. The 
box - office was 
open, and he 
demanded the 

Mr, Hawker, 
a n t i cipating 
this visit, had t;iven his instructions. 

"What name shall I say, sir?" 
inquired the official 
tfc There is my card. ' 

The Major cooled his heels for some five 

" Mr. Hawker is engaged, sir. Will you let 
him know on what business you have come?" 
11 He knows my business perfectly well, 1 ' 
answered the Major, sternly. "Tell him so, 
and that I'm not in the mood to stand any 
14 Yes, sin" 

Of one thing Major Saxby was able to 
assure himself: the play-bill at the theatre 
did not exhibit his daughter's name. Possibly 
the old ruffian had told a mere lie. As he 

Original from 




stood fuming, the official came back and 
reported that Mr, Hawker could only spare a 
minute or two. The Major was led into a 
room, and the manager rose to receive him 
with cold dignity. 

"Well, sir? Did you receive my letter 
this morning ? Pray be as brief as possible ; 
I am very busy." 

" What is the meaning of this insolent :-e ? " 

* E Re careful, Major! One 
word too much, and I 11 have 
you kicked into the street. 
What the deuce do you mean, 
sir, by talking about insolence ? 
At considerable inconvenience 
to myself. I went from Wattle- 
borough to your house to speak 
with you about your daughter, 
who had applied to me for 
advice and assistance. You 
remember, no doubt, how I 
was received. By Gad, sir, I 
am not accustomed to such 
treatment ! Whether you know 
it or not, my position and 
my career entitle me to 
respect, even from a Major 
Sax by. And that respect 
I will have, sir. or know 
the reason why." 

The Major began to 
recognise a kindred spirit, 
and the explanation of Mr + 
Hawkers call at Medio w 
House in a great measure 
disarmed him. 

"There has been a 
grievous misunderstand- 
ing, Mr. Hawker," he said, 
quietly. "When you 
came to Med low, you 
found me in a great hurry, 
and, I will add, in a very 
bad temper, I think, as 
you had brought news 
of such moment to me, 
overlooked my hastiness ; 
say no more. Have the kindness to explain 
this astounding letter of yours/* 

Deliberately and somewhat pompously* 
the manager made known all that concerned 
Miss Saxby. 

"She played last night, Major,' 3 he added, 
"and played, I am bound to say, very well, 
everything considered. This young lady has a 
future ; and, in my opinion, it would be un- 
pardonable to interfere with her manifest voca- 
tion. I am prepared, Major Saxby, to w 

1 he listener could control himself no longer. 

u What you are prepared to do, Mr. 
Hawker, does not in the least concern me. 
I must immediately see my daughter" 

"By all means. You will find her at the 
Hull Hotel, where she is probably receiving 
instruction from Mrs. Hawker." 

Fiery words quivered upon his tongue, but 



should have 
of that well 

by Vj 



the Major kept them back. He could not 
trust himself to say anything at all, and with 
merely a bow left the room. Mr. Hawker 
sat down and chuckled : hut, foreseeing thfi 
issue of Miss Saxby J s interview with her 
father, he also sighed over the loss of a more 
promising pupil than had for a long time 
come under his hands. 

Major Saxby was detained at the hotel for 
nearly an hour. In the end, a cab conveyed 
him and his daughter to the station. Miss 
Saxby was weeping, not however incon- 
solably ; the Major, perspiring freely, kept a 
grave, but not severe, silence. 

Original from 

Some Old Children s-Books. 

By Alice Waters, 

HE South Kensington Museum 
is a much-maligned institution. 
And yet, although to revile it 
seems fashionable, few will 
venture to deny two things — 
3 the interest of its contents and 
the courtesy and ability of its officials* 

No doubt many of the South Kensington 
treasures are not exhibited so advantageously 
as they might be ; but unless you expect the 
officials to provide new buildings out of their 
own pockets, you can't blame them for this. 

Among the little-known possessions of the 
museum is a collection of Children's Books 
of bygone generations. These quaint publica- 
tions, which date from the sixteenth century 
onwards, (;ive one an excellent notion of 
the manners and customs and beliefs that 
prevailed among our ancestors ; besides 
showing what kind of educational literature 
was provided for the instruction and amuse- 
ment of the children of other days. 

Here is reproduced the first of a set of four 
pictures illustrating various stages in the 
career of a Good Boy. The Bad Boy, of 
course* commences by thumping his sister in 

the nursery and winds up at the end of a rope 
in Newgate. These pictures are from a 
quaint little book called u The Edinburgh 
New Alphabet and Progress of Industry. 
Sixpence Plain ; One Shilling Coloured/' 
Nowadays it could be sold with profit 
at a farthing — anolher instance of the 
progress of industry ; hut this is by the way. 
The A K C contains four letters to the page, 
and is rather curious. " 1 " stands for Idiot 
— a weird figure astride a hobby-horse, with 
a fool's cap on his head (the idiot's, not the 
horse's) and an enormous ruff round his neck. 
41 Z ;t stands for Zoologist. A benevolent 
person is sitting in a valley making notes. 
Lions, elephants, sea-serpen + s, and wild-fowl 
of that sort are looking ov_r his shoulder, no 
doubt in order to see that their idiosyncrasies 
are properly described. 

After the alphabet, the Progress of Industry, 
The ( rood Boy is introduced in the nursery 
stage (No, i}* He looks rather a repulsive 
young vagabond, so that his amiabilities must 
be taken for granted. So supremely perfect 
was our (lood Boy, that we are told even 
"This Rocking horse, his merit did acquire/ 1 

Tfo*Rocfcirig'ht>rfoHU mcrjt did arquiri" * 
But j^re**iffr muiivt'rf.mnij hit- mind inspire-. 

Now sill BPiilr)nre laid ki# yo-uthfal Toys , 
A Matter* busineffl all lis care employ*. 

by Google 

Original from 



In man** *■ ritntrJiL* oK'u iiitAii'n to guid^ 
Ami ho bnie! r olrnti* nil hi* nrrt(r . 

Observe, the animal 
is perfect, though it 
has been in his pos- 
session for years. The 
head and limbs are 
net knocked off; the 
gorgeous tail and 
mane ars not plucked 
out to serve for 
make - believe mous- 
taches ; and you will 
look in vain for holes 
dug in the horse's 

But the time conies 
when the rocking- 
horse has to be aban- 
doned. The Good 
11 oy "*as big things 
in J is 'ed," as the 
classic song put it 
In the stately words 
of the text, iL ( heater 
motives, now, his mind 
inspire/' The scene 

changes. As the play programmes Kay, 
''Twenty years are supposed to have elapsed*" 
The Good Boy has glided imperceptibly into 
a Good Man, much as you would into one in 
a fog. He has done with toy 3 and has 
become a Master (No + 2). There are no use- 
less baubles in the office — plenty of room to 
breathe, and next to no furniture. And 
observe that devoted, hard-working servant 

Lov.iltvihr print; K Himntirnl of ihrfirf'M 

Rrhol(lhim,ui his Carriage, rid* in slate - 

Vol, xw— 6- 

by Google 

You can see he is a 
great worker — an 
earnest person, living 
only to obey his 
m a ster's com ma nds, 
dashing here and 
there at the slightest 
call, and generally 
making himself an 
immitigable nui- 

Yet another stage 
in the Good Boys 
career. He has by 
this time worked up 
a big export business 
(No, 3). A huge 
ocean - going sailer 
(drawing, one would 
say, about i8in, of 
water, so close is it 
to the beach) has 
brought in from the 
Indies an astound - 
ingly meagre cargo, 
and the Good Man (in an impassible hat) is 
giving instructions as to its disposal We 
thought as much. That earnest fellow has 
been ousted from his position as confidential 
servant, and his place token by a supercilious 
individual, who considers himself at least as 
good as his master But the earnest one was 
not exactly cleared out altogether, He was 
kept on as Crane- Man Extraordinary and 
leader Plenipotentiary, He is fumbling 
about with a bale of goods in the back- 

In the last picture (No. 4) we see that the 
Good Man — now become a bald-headed 
person, greatly respected in the City — has 
made his pile and retired from business to 
ride about in a peculiar carriage, drawn, 
apparently, by four half-bred giraffes. 

No doubt this impressive picture-story did 
appeal to the imagination of children a 
century or so rgo, whatever may be thought 
of the obvious moral in these days of money- 
getting at any price. But, really, the artists 
intrusted with the work might have produced 
more imposing figures. 

That children possessed a sense of the 
ridiculous, even in the age of saintly parable, 
is manifested in our next reproduction (No. 5). 
Here we see that the child into whose hands 
the book fell, far from being awe-struck by 
tlie two-headed and four-armed creature, 
has actually provided him with a big, old- 
fashioned hat, adorned with a smart feather. 
This defacing of school-book pictures by 

Original from 




Deformed and Mon- 
ftrous People* 

pen-and-ink embellishments is by no means 
unknown in our own day. 

Our reproduction is from the quaintest 
educational book imaginable. It is called— 


Nomenclature and Pictures of all lhk 


01 Mi:\ f s Kmi'IOVMkm Therein'* 
In Alwnc 1 50 Cuts. 
Wkittkn hv the Author in Latin ami 
Hum Di'irii. 
Being one of his last Essays, and the most suitable i'> 
Children's Capacities of any he hath hitherto made, 
''Latin and 
High Dutch 1 *. . . 
"Most suitable to 
Children's Capaci- 
ties," etc. ! Hut 
don c be under 
any misapprehen- 
sion. The author 
knew as well as 
you that he had 
got hold of a stu- 
pendous theme. 
He is half afraid 
to begin. There 
are nine prefaces : 
as you turn these 
over you begin 
to think it's all 
preface, and the 
whole thing an 
eighteenth cen- 
tury joke. It is 
no joke, however, 
but a serious edu- 
cational work put 
into the hands 
of teachers and 
children with the 
view of instructing 
tin in in every- 
thing, known and 
unknown, on the 
face of this planet, 
Preface No. 4 
commences with 
this ambiguous 
aphorism : " In- 
struction is the 
means of expelling 
rudeness, with 
which young wits 
ought to he well 
furnished in the 
schools" The italics are ours, but don't ask us 
to explain it. Possibly it is " Instruction . . . 
with which/- etc., that is meant ; but you 

Deforms & 

and deformed Pe$ftf are 
theft whub differ in the Bvdy 
frw fbt erditrayJbfiffB 

A* ewe the huge Giant, 1 . 
the little Dwarf, 2, 
One with two Bodies, 3. 
One with two Heads 4. 
ttid /nth like M*nfizn* 

Among fi tkrfr are reckoned^ 
T^joU-headed, 5, 
The great-Jiofcd, 6* 
The 6 1 u b ber - 1 ipped , 7 • 
The blub-chcwcd, 8. 
*"*' goggle-eyed, p. 
Tht wry-necked, 10- 
Tht grea*-f hroated , 11. 
The crump-backed* 1 j, 
The crump- footed, xy 
The fteepl c - c rowii c d , j 5 . 
add re theft 
The ba id.- pa t ed_ 14^. 

NO, 5^ 

by Google 

must remember how overcome the author 
was with the magnitude of his subject, and 
forgive a little incoherence, 

It is the page dealing with " Deformed 
and Monstrous People " that we have repro- 
duced in No. 5. The three figures arc 
supposed to embody every one of the strange 
and fearful afflictions that are given below. 
It is a peculiar anthropological lesson for 
children, such as even Sir William Turner 
himself could not have given. How exhaus- 
tive the definitions of " Monstrous and 
Deformed People"! How convenient are 
_ — the reference 

numbers illustrat- 
ing "the jolt- 
headed, ,J "the 
and the rest And 
how useful it must 
be when children 
grow up and go 
out into a trucu- 
lent world to 
know the Latin 
for (t wry-necked," 
41 blubber-lipped/' 
and if bald- 

Ah ! There was 
no need for night 
schools and the 
like in those days. 
Consider the mag- 
nificently com- 
plete lesson on 
Serpents and 
Creeping Things 
which is next 
shown (No, 6). 
The habitat of 
each reptile is 
succinctly given. 
**The Adder in 
the Wood," -The 
Asp in the Fields," 
and " The Water- 
Snake " - — curi- 
ously enough — 
"in the water," 
Even the most 
familiar objects of 
domestic life were 
not overlooked. 
" The Boa (or 
Mild snake) in 
houses " ! Again, you can refer to each by 
its number in the picture, What price- 
less hint is given about the Salamander 

Original from 

h deprmes font 

a bournes torpore 

a conununi forma* 

ut ftrnt, iwimanis Gigxi, 1 

Ma 11 US fPtrmilm) 5, 

Bicrrfer, j. 

Biceps, 4. 

A id genu* monftra. 
His accenfetuur, 

fif*fe t 6; 

BitffP, $* 
Straho t g. 

Ohj}lptii t 1 Q« 

Stnsme/tf?, j ] « 
Gihbcfitt 7 ] 2 . 
Luripes t 13, 
CV/t?, 15* 
Calvaf.rvm x 14* 




Serpents and Creeping Things. 


Tbt Adder, t* 
in th§ nve§4 I 

Tit Water- foake, 2* 

in tht *w*i4T * 
Tbi Viper, 3- 

The Afp t 4. in th/Jft/d/* 
Tht Boa (er Mild fnaktjj. 

The Slow-wormi 6, 
is blind* _ 

The Lizard, 7, 
a?d the Salamander, £. 
ft bat livtfb U*g t^fire) b&*vt 

The Dragon, 9. 
% winged Serpent, 
ktittthwjith hit Br rath. 

The Jiafiliflc, to. 
Ttv/A bit £yn ; 

wfWthc ScnrpioB^ it* 
vtith hu fo'/zttiHtt t&il* 

U Rtptiiia. 

Angxrt repuot 
fifluando k t 
Co/ubtr t t, 

in SyJvai 

Natrix (hydra) 2. 
in Aqua; 

in faxUi 

in Domibirs. 

Cit£llt& t 6 P 

eft coeca. 

Learta l *J* 

(in rgne max,) habent 

IJrfifO, £ # 

Sfrftxi &ltitftf t 
DCCal haJitu. 

Ba/ittftifi t 10. 
OcuJtS ; 

StBrfic, i t. 
venenata cauda. 

so. 6. 

(that liveth long in fire— and that the Zoo 
hath never seen) ? Why, that he hath feet 
What would you ? No. S in the picture 
shows him dancing a hornpipe and sur 
rounded with a fiery nimbus. The Dragon, 
we are told, is a winged serpent that killeth 
with his breath. Look at him in Na 9. 
Next comes the deadly-eyed Basilisk and the 
Scorpion with his poisonous tail. I kit qan it 
really be possible that such things were 
seriously taught in our schools ? 

"The Visible World " J next goes on to give 
a queer list of European states. They 
include such unfamiliar countries as 
Croatia, Dacia, Sclavonic Podolia, Tartary (!) 
Lithuania, Lisland, Muscovy and Russia. 

The writing lesson concludes : 
44 Now we dry our writing with calls- 
sand out of a sand-box,' 1 The barber 
is said to perform some queer 
offices. After having " washed us 
in suds," "he openeth a vein with 
a pen ■ knife, whereat the blood 
spirteth out. 1 ' Of the sick man 
we read : " Now the Physician lie 
feeleth his pulse and then pre- 
scribed; a receipt in a bill that is 
made ready in an apothecary's shop, 
where drugs are kept in gaily pots/' 
"Diet and prayer is (sic!) the best 
physic/' concludes the author, 

Even lawn tennis is described in 
this wonderful work, "This is the 
sport of noblemen who stir their 
bodies. The wind ball being filled 
with air by means of a ventil is 
tossed to and fro with the fist in the 
open air," An interesting game ! 

We next turn to an even more 
delightful educational work on the 
subject of etiquette for children. It 
was published in the very first year 
of the eighteenth century. Note that 
there are added to the Rules for 
Kehaviour, "Some short and mixt 




O P 


O R 

RULES for Children* 


AtChurch,at Moment Tabic, 
School , abroad, and among 
Boys* Wiih feme other 
ihof c and mixe Precepts. 

By the Author of the Enghfh 


%k* JFourcfc GECttMM. 


Prince J for Th* Cickmll, it tbc 
Tht eeLegi 1 dd Bibb igiinft Gro- 
cm-HilV in the Pwukrtf^ 1701, 

NO. 7. 

by Google 

Original from 



Precepts. r Truly they are very "mixt." The 
work went into at least four editions. We 
are sure it would go into fourteen if someone 
brought it out again now. Besides the title- 
page (No. 7), we reproduce pages eight, nine, 
and fourteen of this most curious little work 
(Nos. 8, 9, and 10). Rule eight, on page eight, 
will surprise our own little well-bred ones. 

The preface portentously tells us that 
"A scholar ill-bred in his behaviour .... is 
the fretting disease of his parents' discontented 
mind ; who, if they be persons of good and 
ingenious breeding, cannot but be filled with 
heinous resentment, to observe in their 
children a carriage so hateful and unlike their 

First comes "On behaviour at the church." 


8. Feed thy felf with thy two 
Fingers, and the Thumb of the 
left hand. 

p. Speak not ar the Table ; if 
thy Superiors be difcourfmg, med- 
dle not with the matter. 

10. If thou want any thing 
from the Servants, call to them 

ti. Eat not too faft. or gree- 

12. Eat not too much, but mo- 

13. Eat nor fo flow as to make 
others wait for thee. 

14- Make not a noife with thy 
tongue, mouth, lips, or breath, 
either in eating or drinking, 

15. Srare not in the face of any 
one (efpecially thy Superior ) at 

itf. Greafenot thy Fingers or 
Napkin, more than neceffitv re- 

NO. 8. 

Here is one precept from this category : M Be 
not hasty to run out of the church when the 
worship is ended, as if thou wert weary of 
being there." The following is marked as 
important : "Smell not to thy meat nor move 
it to thy nose. Turn it not the other side 
upward to view it upon the plate. Throw 
not anything under the table. Gnaw not 
bones, but clean them with thy knife." 

Some of the maxims were shrewd enough 
and applicable at all times. Under " Rules 
for behaviour in Company," we read : " If 
thy superior be relating a story, say not ' I 

( 9) 

17. Bite not thy bread, bur 
break it, but not with flovenly 
Fingers, nor with the Tame where- 
with thou taketl up thy meat* 

1 3 Dip not thy Meat in the 

19. Take not fait withagreazy 

20 Spit not, cough not, nor 
blow thy Note at Table if it may 
be avoided § but if there be nc- 
ceflity, do it afide, and without 
much noife* 

it. Lean not thy Elbow on 
the Table, or on the back of thy 

21. Stuff not thy mouth fo 
as to fill thy Cheeks ; be content 
with fmallcr Mouchfuls. 

23. Blow not thv Meat, but 
with Patience wait till it be cool. 

24. Sup not Broth at the Ta- 
ble , but eat it with a Spoon. 

NO. 9. 

have heard it before,' but attend as if it were 
to thee altogether new. Seem not to question 

by Google 


7. In coughing or faceting make 
as little noife as poflible. 

8. If thou cannot avoid yawn- 
ing, (hut thy Mouth with thine 
Hand or Handkerchief before it, 
turning thy Face afidc. 

p. Whctvthoubloweflfhy Nofe, 
let thy Handkerchief be ufed t and 
make not a noife in fo doing. 

10. Gnaw nor thy Nails, pick 
them not, nor bite them with thy 

1 1. Spit not in the Room, but in 
a corner, and rub it out with thy 
Foot, or rather go out and do 
it abroad. 

12 Leah not upon the Chair of 
a Superior, Handing behind him, 

13. Spit not upon the fire, nor 
fit too wide with thy Knees at it. 

14. Sit not with thy legs 
croiTcd, but keep them firm and 
fetlcd, and thy Fed cten, 

15. Turn not thy back to any, 
but place thy felf conveniently, 

Original from 



the tntih of it If 

he tell it not right, 
s nigger not, nor en- 
deavour to help out 
or add to his rela- 

The page we next 
reprod uce (No, 1 1 ) 
was one of several 
in "The Visible 
World " which were 
intended (i) To 
teach the Alphabet ; 
(2) To teach a little 
l^itin ; (3} To render 
children familiar with 
the forms of animals, 
etc ; and (4) To give 
the characteristics of 
each. How many 
birds did the sapient 
author try to kill with 
one stone ? 

There may be 
several opinions 
about the value of 
the information. 

The Cat crieth"; 
* l The Chicken pip- 
peth"; " T h e 
Cuekow sin get h n ; 
'The Dog grin neth." 
These l>e helpful 
hints. Other pages 
gave even more start 
ling facts, " The 
goose gagleth r * ; "the bear : 
hath not met a grumbling bear? Again, 

( + ) 

Felts clamar, nau nan 
the Cat (rittb. 


Aunga clamat, 
Fire Carter mttb. 

G C 

PuVms pipit, pi ft 

The Chicken pippeik 

Cuculus cucuUr, kuk ku 
The CmkQwfmgiib+ 

Canh ringitur, err 

Tbf Dog grtrtmt&T 

Serpen* fibilat, Ji 

'The Serpent ttjfrth. 

Gratufos clamar, tac tat 
c lhf Jay crietb. 

Bubo ululate 
<Tbt Owl boat c lb. 

u a 

Lspus vaglr, 

The Hart jftiteketk 

Rana coaxat, 
TU It &g intake tb* 

/Ifinui rudit, 
Tbt Aft braycth. 

Ti'tbanu^ dicic, 
r Tht Breeze cr 

fij jaitb* 

N tt 



R r 

S f 


" The snail carrieth 
about her snail- 
horn.' Could any- 
thing possibly be 
more luminous? 

Next come the 
title - page and two 
specimen pages 
(Nos* i2, 13, and 14) 
from an old Lottery 
Book, published in 
lvdin burgh in the 
second decade of 
this cfentury. Note 
that it is " Designed 
to allure Little Ones 
into a Knowledge of 

T t 





( &ts ; X x 

rumbleth." Who 

their Letters by 
of Diversion." 
author is " Tommy 
Trip, a Lover of 
Children." Tommy 
was a wonderfully 
prolific producer of 
children's educa- 
tional toy-books. Hi 
was a mythical per- 
son a tie, somewhat 
analogous to Santa 
Clans* In the preface 1 
to his Lottery Book, 
Tommy lets the little 
ones into some of his 
secrets. He confesses 
tn to being a dwarf. He 

is, he says, always 
accompanied by his faithful dog fowler, a 
wonderful quadruped, who serves him as 

4* ds 






A Plan Entirely New; 

D**ig[>ed to nTlur* Little Onri in in m. 
Knowledge of ibtii Lutin, &c. 1*j 

way of J.h-- 1 i,i..ri. 


A New 

Lottery Book, 


A Laitr of Children. 


Printed Qnd SM VMtuifr, 



DC Jay. 9 



X Key. 10 

J Was a Jay, 
that prattles and toys, 

¥7" Was a Key, 


by Google 

Original from 



NO. 15, 

horse as well as dog. " When I have a 
mind to ride, I pull a little bridle out of my 
pocket, whip it upon honest Jowler, and 
away I gallop Tantwivy." 

The manner of using the Lottery Book is 
as follows : £i As soon as the child can speak T 
let him stick a pin through the page by the 
side of the letter you wish to teach him. 
Turn the page every time and explain the 
letter, by which means the child's mind will 
be so fixed upon the letter that he will get a 
perfect idea of it, and will not be liable to 
mistake it for any other. Then show him 
the picture opposite the letter, and make him 
read the name of it." After the letters and 
pictures come select one-syllable sentences, 
such as : — 

The dog will fetch the sheep or cow t 
Or turn the hog or drive the sow. 

Thankless work for the friend of man ! 

Again : — 

The goose gives down, on which we sleep, 
Pens to write, and wings to sweep. 

On the back of the last page is one 01 
those old-fashioned drawings which give a 
different figure according to the way you 
view it. 

A typical children's book of the early 
years of the century is tl Flowers of Instruc- 
tion/' whereof the frontispiece is here repro- 
duced (No, 15). This is a volume of simple 
poems on such subjects as Falsehood, Filial 
Duty, Curiosity, Gratitude, Disobedience, 
and so on- The verse beneath the frontis- 
piece is from a poem called "Passion.' 

The copper-plate engraving shows a dread- 
ful quarrel between two little twin sisters — 
one passive and the other extremely active. 
M Passion's angry storm n has wrought great 
havoc, The toys are pitched about anyhow. 
The naughty girl's face is supposed to be so 
tear-stained, swollen, and disfigured, that dear, 
demure mamma is holding up a mirror in the 
hope that the passionate child may see her 
own frightful reflection, and desist in sheer 
horror at the sight. 

Here is the first verse of "A Dunce's 
Difficulties 7T from the same hook : — 

W ha I ever Chailes is I old to do 
Appears in such Lrementlous \iew% 
One might suppose his friends unkind 
Su much to press upon his mind, 

A page from the u Cries of London :f h next 
reproduced (No, 16), It is a tiny picture-book 
published at York very early in the century. 


Come buy my fine Writing Ink ! 

Thro' many aatreetand many a town* 
The lnkman shapes his, way, 

The trusty ass keep* plodding on. 
Hit master to obey* 

by Google 

Original from 



did the magistrates issue summonses against 
irate teachers who wielded freely the 
u Jemmies * and " Tartars," When the child 
or his tutor had persevered unto the end of 
the u Cries of London/ 7 his attention was 
arrested by an artful little poem full of moral 
reflections, but concluding with this advice — 
obviously emanating from the publishing 
department : — 
Which [le., the Iwk) 3011 may for one penny buy ; 

And when you've read it oVr 
Go to the shop again and try 
You may buy twenty more. 
The frontispiece and title-page of an ex- 
tremely rare and valuable work are next given 
(Nos. 1 7 and 1 8). This k the very first edition 
of £( Cocker 's Arithmetic^' 1 of which only three 
or four perfect copies are known. Everybody 
has heard the phrase, u according to Cocker," 
but not all know its origin. Cocker was 
considered a final arbiter, absolute and un- 
questionable. His opinion of himself was 
tremendous. Consider that sentence about 
his book : " Being that so long since promised 

jXe JrtuuLShtnr ti&jitSy ******** <w» 

NO* 17- 

At the top of each page is a line which gives 
a clue to the article sold, and underneath is 
given a verse on the same subject That 
some queer things were formerly hawked in 
the streets of the Metropolis is made evident 
in the wood-cut here shown. It depicts the 
vendor of writing inks following his ass 
through the streets, the animal being laden 
with drums or kegs of writing fluid, most 
probably home-made. 

The compiler of the little book is most 
anxious to point a moral whenever he can. 
At the top of one page we read, " Dainty 
sweet-briar. Rue, sage : and mint, a farthing 
a bunch/' The picture shows a patriarchal 
person selling these herbs. Underneath are 
the lin^s : — 

A^ ihrp' the fields he bends (jiV ,') his way 

Pure Natures \M>rks discerning 1 
So >(pii should practise every day 
To iracc the jjath of learning. 
One old woman cries: "Diddle, Diddle, 
Dumplings, oh ! "and another says, coaxingly : 
-Come buy my little Jemmies, my little 
Tartars ; but a halfpenny each.' 3 These are 
short canes Tor the purpose of castigation at 
home and in school. Children were not 
humoured and coddled in those days, nor 




A plain and familiar Method^fuitable 
to the mcaneft Opacity , for the fill I under- 
ftanding of that incomparable Art* as it is 
now taught by the abfclfc School Matter* in 
City and Country. 


By Edward Cockerels Prafticioner in 
the Arts of Writing, Arithmerick, and En* 
gracing. Being that To long lince promifed 
to the World. 


By John Hawkins, Writing-M after near St, 
GttrrJ$ Church in Sautbmw^ by the Au- 
thor v conrdfc Copy, and commenaed to the 
World by many eminent Mathematicians 
and Wijting-Maftenin and near London. 

Jhtt Imfr^fmii cwrttW and Amended t wrt h mjyry 

LicenfedJ^ J. 1677. i^oger VEjhange. 

L N D N y 

Printed by R. Hoh t for T- Paffwger^ 
and Told by Jehn Rac^ at die black Boy 
on Lortdett-Brtd£f f 1 6 B 8 * 

;-"', t$* 

by Google 

Original from 



to the World." He 
must have im pressed 
his contemporaries. 
There are laurel leaves 
about his head in the 
picture. Then, ngain, 
lock at the droll apos- 
trophe beneath the 
portrait of the Master 
— a verse composed 
by a humble disciple, 
Mho also wrote the 
sonorous proem or 
preface. u Ingenious 
Cocker!" As who 
should say, "Illustrious 
Spoffkins ! " h is hard 
to be a leader of men 
and yet bear the name 
of Cocker. 

Next in our list 
comes a photographic 
reproduction ol a 
Horn Book (No. 19) 
— a genuine specimen, 
dating from about 
1750, and bought 
by the Museum for half a sove- 
reign, Horn Books are extremely 
rare relics of the childhood of other 
days. In 1882, when the Worshipful 
Company of Homers held a loan 
exhibition at the Mansion House, the 
total number of Horn Books shown 
was eight, although special efforts were made 
to gather together every authentic specimen, 
Those u books w which had had gold and silver 
bindings wore broken up for the sake of the 
EH3tal. The Horn Book may be said to 
consist of a printed alphabet, Lord's Prayer, 
etc., pasted on a little square of wood* with 
a handle, and then covered with a thin sheet 
of horn, which, whilst protecting the "book" 
from injury or from being soiled, would yet 
admit of the words bein^ easily read. The 
specimen shown here is one that has evidently 

seen much use. Some 
of the horn has been 
either broken away or 
worn away, The piece 
at the bottom right- 
hand corner is only 
held in position by 
the brass binding and 

I 1 he earliest record 
of a real Horn ttook, 
faced with hern, is in 
1450. Shakespeare 
alludes to these things 
in the 1623 edition of 
" Lovers Labour Lost" 
Horn Books were 
probably the happy 
thought of an over- 
taxed scribe, who 
loathed the job of 
perpetually re -writing 
the Alpha bet. One 
specimen, known as 
" The Bateman Horn 
Book," was sold at 
Sotheby's in 1893 for 
^65, the purchaser being a Viennese 

An old - fashioned ornamental 
flourish comes last (No, 20). This 
kind of thing was a high art One 
flourish taught by the old copy-books 
would be a lion, a Greek i^kI, 01; 
something equally inspiring, done in whirling 
loops without lifting the quill from the paper. 
Our reproduction is taken from t( The 
Expeditious Instructor ;. or Reading, Writing, 
and Arithmetic^ made plain nnd easy. Con- 
taining much more in quantity than any 
book of the kind or price; and expressed in 
so easy and familiar a manner that persons 
of the lowest capacity may learn without a 
master." A vade mecnm } indeed ! liy its aid 
" persons ignorant of that art (writing) may 
learn in twenty-four hours without a master. * 

& _v 

by Google 

Original from 


ASON FLOYD stood on the 
stoep of his store talking to 
the native chief Umsikilaki, 
or rather listening with all 
his ears to what that worthy 
was saying. His face grew 
very grave as the minutes dragged on. Pre- 
sently his wife, who had been standing at the 
door of the house anxiously scanning his 
changing expression, came across to him, 
and linking her arm affectionately through 
his 7 asked :— 

M What is it, dear ? Is it had news ? The 

Nason looked at his wife tenderly, and 
nodded, patting her hand, however, the while 
as if to reassure her. The three made a 
characteristic picture of South African life, 
as they stood there chatting in the sunlight 

Anna Floyd was approaching her fiftieth 
year, but her hair was as golden, her cheeks 
as soft and delicately rosy, her voice as gentle 
and loving and tender as when, thirty years 
ago, her husband, then a sergeant in the 
Seymour Troopers, had told her she reminded 
him of the roses that blew in the hedge- 
rows of his native England* Nason Floyd 
was ten years older than his wife. His close- 

igitized by GoOgk 

VOL IV.- 6 

cropped hair was grey, like 
his moustache, hut with that 
respectable grizzled look that 
suggests the soldier and hard 

Umsikilaki was a fine 
specimen of a Hluba savage 
— old, sturdy, erect as an 
assegai. He had ever since 
Floyd's arrival in the Mandi- 
leni valley some six years 
previously been a warm and true ally to the 
trader. And now he brought the news so 
long and anxiously dreaded that a Basuto 
impi had gone off to Mount Krere, and that 
Floyd himself might at any hour expect his 
store to be looted. 

"What do you think, mother?" asked 
Floyd* " Had we better cut and run, or put 
up the barricades and wait for the troops? 
We have heaps of ammunition, if only old 
Omsi here will lend us some men." 

tl But there's Loo, dear," murmured the 
mother, while her hand tightened on her 
husband's arm. "Thank God, the other 
girls are in Durban," 

,c Oh f Ix)o's all right," said Floyd, cheer- 
fully, his eyes sparkling, " She is a perfect 
nailer with a rifle* Aren't you. Loo?" he 
shouted, as round the hut danced a girl. 

"Aren't I what?" was the rejoinder, as 
careless of grammar as of correction, as she 
came forward and linked on to her mother, 
looking up at her lovingly as she whispered* 
" You great fat old darting! " 

" What was your last score at 400, Loo ? " 
asked Floyd. 

u Two magpies, three bulls, one outsider, 
and— a sighter/' said Loo, demurely* She 




always called a miss a sighter. " But why ? " 
she asked, quickly, noticing for the first time 
the air of gravity that overhung the group. 

" Because we are discussing, little woman, 
whether to go before the Basutos get here or 
to wait and stand a siege." 

" Oh, do let's have the siege," rejoined 
Loo, breathlessly, her face radiant with excite- 
ment. And a very piquante, irresistible face 
it was. Very fair in complexion, with riotous 
curly golden hair that utterly contemned all 
bonds, her features resembled her father's, 
blending with an indescribable charm and 
suggestion of womanliness and tenderness 
a look of firmness, endurance, and pride. 

And, indeed, Loo Floyd was also a house- 
hold name for many a mile beyond. She 
was one of the Veld's diamonds, a flawless 
stone, steeped through and through with 
sunshine, and radiating it again on all sides 
in unconscious sheer delight of living. 

She disappeared now into the store to 
reappear again in a few moments with a 
bandolier over her white cotton frock, and a 
rifle brandished in her hand — with which 
she marched up and down the stoep, to the 
huge delight of the natives. 

" Now then, I>oo," said her father, " if you 
want to fight, get to work and stow all fooling. 
Go round and get the girls to send all the 
water into the store. And you," he said, 
turning to his assistants, the two Macraes, 
"go and get the waggons into the laager 
round the houses, and run the sheathing over 
the thatches. You might get everything 
ready, mother, for a move into the store, if 
that is to be necessary. I wish I could send 
in to Scanlan. But that, of course, is im- 
possible now. I'd give anything to warn him." 

As the party breaks up to fulfil his direc- 
tions, Floyd surveys the scene in front of 
him. So beautiful, so intensely restful is it, 
it seems almost ludicrous to be preparing for 
the hubbub of war. Mile after mile the 
plain stretches out in front, green with the 
lambent flash of the young grass shooting 
through the rustling, rolling gold of last 
year's dying growth. To right and left, 
to back and front, rise tier on tier the 
mighty hi h. For Mandileni is one of the real 
treasure haunts of South Africa —a peaceful 
valley, lying hushed and dream - woven 
between the arms of the grim and barren 
Drakensberg. There in front, mass on mass 
of granite, the Drakensberg Range, seeks 
the sky, its slopes as well as its peaks white 
and glittering with snow. All round as far 
as the eye can see is that white line, like a 
fringe of foaming lace dropped from the 

Digitized by G* 

sky on ridge and rounded kopje, softening 
the sharp edges of ravine and donga, and 
mantling with mighty icicles the gaunt faces 
of giant kraazes. And beyond the snow lay 
the crystal bright sky, brilliant, bracing, full 
of breath and crisp, keen grasp of life. Up 
.above the intense, gleaming, deepening, 
fathomless blue, and below that waving roll- 
ing gold of the Veld flecked with the lambent 
green of young grasses running right up to 
the very fringe of the snow, and the sun 
shining full in mid-heaven — warm, gentle, 
coaxing as a June day in England. 

" How like a dream it all seems," thought 
Floyd, as his thoughts went off to his 
quondam friend. 

Morris Scanlan was the magistrate at 
Mount Frere, and an Irishman. He was a 
young man, and added all the haste of youth 
to the natural heritage of a Celtic temper. 
But he was certainly attractive. Tall, with 
that lissom, agile build so distinctive of the 
Irish, he had lived a wild, roving life on the 
Veld, and was full of anecdote, and a 
humour, perhaps, occasionally over -grim. 
His bright blue eyes and yellow hair and 
beard contrasted keenly with the dark tan of 
his complexion. But his face was absorbing, 
powerful with that power that only comes 
of experience in restraint 

From the first moment Morris Scanlan 
had seen Ix>o he had fallen in love with her. 
That had been two years before, on his 
arrival at Mount Frere, and when Loo Floyd 
was but sixteen years old. Both Floyd and 
his wife took to him at once, and when a 
month later he boldly proposed to carry off 
their daughter, subject to the stipulation of 
waiting till she was older, they had no objec- 
tion to offer. 

When Scanlan came to approach Loo on 
the subject, there was about her so dis- 
concerting an innocence of the slightest 
embarrassment that he found his task more 
difficult even than he had anticipated. Of 
sighs, of tenderness, of amatory innuendoes 
she was serenely oblivious, continuing with 
avidity her occupation of eating strawberries. 
Now, it is not easy even, for an Irishman to 
make love to a girl of sixteen intent on straw- 
berries, so that when at last Morris screwed 
up his courage to the point of gasping out 
his declaration, he felt savagely that it was a 
very lame proceeding. To make matters 
more sore, Loo had accepted it in a 
spirit of hilarious surprise, of girlish glee, 
whose very freedom from any shyness declared 
her heart as yet unreached. But she liked 
Morris, liked him very much, and she 





accepted the idea of becoming his wife with 
an outburst of gratitude and devotion at once 
is careless and as rapturous as though she 
had received a present of a new horse. 

11 Won't it be ripping? n she had said to him, 
as she danced away up to the house, dragging 
him along with both hands. '* Shall I live at 
the Residency? And may 1 come to the 
court and sit up by you when you try 
the prisoners? What glorious fun we 
shall have, shaVt we ? " And so she had 
rattled on, baffling poor Morris between the 
desire to kiss her into silence and compre- 
hension, and the knowledge that he must 
wait awhile till the years unfolded further the 
bud of her womanhood. So it was a kind of 
unspoken engagement that had arisen and 
continued to exist between the two for 
over eighteen months. 

But a few months previously, when 
Floyd and his family were spending a 
few days at Mount Frere, an incident had 
occurred which had created a violent quarrel 
between Scanlan and his guest, Nason 
had brought w T ith him a dog— a valued 
and faithful hound, that insisted on accom- 
panying its master everywhere. To all dogs 
Scanlan had a morbid aversion* For, like 
many Irishmen who have lived lonely and 
wandering lives, he had m him a kind of 
superstition soured by an alien cynicism. 
Indeed, except in his genuinely gay 
moments^ Morris was a moody kind of a 
man, intensely suspicious of intended 
affronts, unforgiving, bitter, and inclined 
to jibe — and yet, in spite of all that, very 
lovable, for somehow, however nasty he 
might be, you always felt that deep down 
there was a great sensitive soul hiding 
wounds the world had made. 

Scanlan's particular superstition was that 
his banshee took the form of a dog, which, 
when it wanted to express itself, did so by 
the aggravating process of howling at 
night under his window, As bad luck 
would have it, for two nights before the 
arrival of the Floyds at the Residency, 
Scanlan had been disturbed by this howl- 
ing, and had been convinced it was a 
banshee foretelling death or disaster by 
the fact that he had been unable either to 
see the dog at the time, or trace its spoor 
in the morning. But about midnight, 
after the Floyds' arrival, the howling had 
commenced again, and Scanlan with his 
gun had again set out to seek proof, and 
this time to find sitting in the moonlight a 
great yellow cur with its jowl turning sky- 
wards in a dreary wail 4t You brute ! " he 

Digitized by Google 

had muttered, and next moment a shot had 
rung out and the dog had howled its last. 

But in the morning, when Floyd dis- 
covered that his faithful friend had been so 
wantonly slaughtered by his host, he would 
accept neither apology nor excuse — but 
immediately called his wife and daughter, 
and without further parley left the astounded 
and penitent magistrate gaping over his gate 
at the retreating figures of his guests. 

But if the quarrel seemed for the moment 
to sever once and for all all chance of more 
intimate alliance between the two families, as 
a matter of fact it brought that chance nearer 
the realm of realization than it had ever 
been before* For with the sudden task of 
self-questioning it set to Loo, it brought an 
answer that had flushed her rosy cheeks with 
a carnation called forth by no exercise, an 
answer that had brought a new light to the 
lovely eyes, a new meaning to the lips that 
the same evening faltered their anxious 
questions to ner mother. But in spite of 
maternal comforting, the quarrel did remain, 
And though Floyd had long ago now forgiven 
the act, he would not be the first to hold out 
the hand. 

" No," he would say, " the bounder would 

Original from 



think I am throwing Loo at him." And 
Scanlan, like most Celts, being as obstinate 
as a pig when his pride was concerned, 
declined to stretch out twice a hand once 

Thus it was that Floyd found himself 
thinking now how the Basuto impi would 
find his friend prepared. For Mount Frere 
was practically deserted by all save the 
trader and the magistrate. The BaSuto 
scare had driven the few inhabitants to flee 
into the fortified township of NTabankulu, 
across the Pondo border. Scanlan, indeed, 
was the object of the rising, his decision as 
to a question of boundary having been the 
immediate brand to light long - smoulder- 
ing elements of revolt. Floyd knew that 
it was just Morris's stubbornness that caused 
him to remain at his post, instead of retiring, 
to return with the military. 

He looked wistfully now towards the 
Devil's Cut, a great angular " V " in the 
mountain, where ran the little pass to Mount 
Frere. He would give anything, he felt, to 
be able to dash in and bring the magistrate 
back with him. His face lightened up as 
he thought of it. He was on the point of 
calling to his wife when Umsikilaki touched 
his elbow and pointed with his assegai to the 
plain in front. 

The homestead at Mandileni was such as 
might be seen in many parts of Africa, as 
far as concerns the disposition of its mere 
externals. A low wall of mud sods inclosing 
in almost a square about an acre of land, and 
backed on the south and east by a triple row 
of black wattle and eucalyptus. In the 
centre of this area four or five large huts 
grouped together constituted the dwelling- 
rooms. Built of dahge, round, thatched 
with reed, with deep, overhanging eaves 
and small windows, they presented a pic- 
turesque contrast to the ungainly architectural 
pioneer of civilization which in the shape of 
a " tin shop " reared its ugly, corrugated 
iron head above them. For this " tin 
shop," as Floyd called it, was of brick and 
iron, roofed with the corrugated stuff so 
much used in the Colonies. It was a rec- 
tangular building with a stone stoep in front, 
a wool-packing shed in the rear, with its 
gable ends abutting, one on the dwelling 
houses, the other on a small hut used as a 
spare guest-room. Beyond this last again was 
the stone cattle kraal, wherein some twenty 
draught oxen, fine black brutes with huge 
horns, were now moving to and fro in that 
aimless, aggravating way which seems to 

Digitized by dOOQlC 

possess cattle when kraaled. Between the 
store and the low sod-wall was a tennis court 
of gravel, across which the net was still 
slung ; for Loo is the champion tennis player 
of that part of the Transkii. Between the 
larger of the dwelling huts and the store was 
a passage built of solid logs, and loop-holed. 
Through this the girls were now engaged in 
rolling small casks of water as fast as they 
could be filled from the huge tank outside. 
Others under Mrs. Floyd's directions were 
transferring into the larger hut the contents 
of the pantry and the kitchen, which lay 
some way down towards the southern wall. 

At the moment when Umsikilaki called the 
attention of Floyd to the distant Veld, every- 
one seemed busy as possible, and the two 
Macraes came up with flushed faces and 
pointed to their work. Of this Floyd was 
particularly proud, it being his own idea. It 
consisted simply of four long pieces of 
corrugated iron which, when fitted on and 
clamped together, formed a perfect sheath 
over the thatch of each hut, thus forming a 
fire-screen against a flight of assegais with 
burning straw or grass attached. 

"That's right, lads," he said, " we're just 
in time. Here they come thick as bees." 
And he pointed in the direction indicated by 
Umsikilaki. That worthy had vanished, he 
and his men having taken to their horses on 
the first alarm. The Basutos as yet, how- 
ever, were a long way off. In the clear, keen 
atmosphere against the white background 
of the snow, they looked like a troop of 
giant ants crawling down the gentle slope 
that curved round the great elbow, whose 
bend encircled the northern valley of the 

"They will be two or three hours yet," 
said Floyd. "Bustle up, boys, and get the 
wires set. There's plenty to do yet." 

At the end of another hour the yard pre- 
sented a strange and curious appearance. 
Between the two large huts was a bullock 
waggon timbered up with scantling and 
planks. Other bullock waggons were arranged 
to form, with the store and the huts, a hollow 
square, into which the cattle and horses were 
already driven. Outside of these, and be- 
tween them and the wall, stretched taut 
about 2in. to 3m. from the ground, were 
crossed and recrossed lines of barbed wire, 
pegged indiscriminately here and there, with 
pegs having heads like reaping hooks. 

Thus it was that when, towards evening, 
the Basutos, to the number of about 1,500, 
swept round the little homestead, the two 
horns of their long extended line enveloping 




it at about 400yds. distant at either side, 
Floyd, standing with his wife and daughter 
on the stoep, surveyed the scene with a 
certain sense of complacency. 

" Ha ! ha ! my darling ! " he said to Loo, 
pinching her soft cheek fondly. " Your old 
fol-de-lol, as you called me when you were a 
tiny dot, wasn't such a dashing sergeant in 
the Seymour for nothing." 

" Will they attack to-night, dear ? " asked 
Mrs. Floyd. 

* l I think not," Nason answered. " Besides, 
we are going to have 
a snow-storm, if I 
mistake not, in which 
case they certainly 
wont trouble us till 
the morning; but, to 
make sure, 1 will just 
get out the ammu- 

Turning into the 
store with these words, 
he did not notice 
IjOo's face, its sudden 
violent flush, its 
equally swift 
deadly pallor. 
As his back was 
turned, the gin 
sprang to her 
mother's side, 
her lips parted, 
her eyes dis- 
tended, her face 
frightened and 

" Mother ! " 
she gasped 
what shall we 
do ? There is 




Mrs. Floyd's 
face, as she drew the sobbing girl to her 
arm*, grew set and rigid, and grey, and 
old-looking. As her eyes wandered away to 
the Veld and that seething, savage line of 
blacks, her arms convulsively gathered her 
daughter closer to her breast When, a few 
moments later, Floyd came out of the store, 
a puzzled look on his handsome face, and a 
careless, '* Where on earth have you hid the 
ammunition, Loo ? " on his lips, and met 
that picture of despair and grief, the truth 
bum on him without words, and his heart 
went like ice within him. 

"Oh! my God!" he groaned 



staring, blankly, numbly, in front of him, then 
realizing to the full the terrific significance of 
the silent drama on all sides presenting itself 
He needed to ask no questions. It was so 
simple— so glaringly explicable. Ever since 
the quarrel he had refused to have even 
official correspondence with the magistrate, 
But when the Basuto scare came, and am- 
munition and the necessary permit for it 
became unavoidable, he had delegated to 
Loo the task of getting it. And now he 
could only stand and curse the pride which 

had even held his 
lips from asking if 
it was obtained* He 
had given Loo the 
money and instruc- 
tions. He had taken 
it- for granted they 
had been fulfilled. 
And now— now they 
would all be done to 
death by that mob 
outside. , His wife too! 
And his daughter ! — 
his blue -eyed little 
Loo ! All of them. 

He looked out past 
them into the face of 
the setting sun that 
was sinking, red and 
angry and sombre, 
beyond the great 
snow-banked ranges 
of the Prakensberg, 
The wind came moan- 
ing up from the south 
— cold, fitful, with 
here and there a slash 
of sleet in it 

11 If only there was 
a chance of getting 
through/ 1 he mut- 
tered ; ^ through to 
the NTaban and 
will snow like rugs 
presently ! They will never attack to-night." 
He looked at his wife and daughter. They 
seemed suddenly to have changed characters. 
It was Mrs. Floyd now who was crying and 
clinging; Loo who, upright, defiant with 
her fairy elfin face almost grim, seemed to be 
comforting and persuading her mother. 

She turned to her father as he came up — 
her eyes eager, yet resolute and commanding. 
"Father," she said, " I am going to 
N'Tabankulu ; I am the only one* You must 
stay and look after mother ; we can't trust the 
Kaffirs, and ths toys don't know the road-" 


bringing help* It 



said Nason, sharply, 
thoughts so articu- 
sudden cold grip of fear 

"Rubbish! rubbish ! J! 
angry at finding his own 
lated, and with a 
for her at his heart 

14 It is not rubbish/ 1 Loo cried, and next 
minute her arms were round her father's 
neck, and she was compelling him to meet 
her gaze. " Ah ! you kmnv it*s not, father ! 
Dear! don't you sec it's the only way for 
mother— for you — for me — for all ? When 
it's dark I shall get through. I know every 
stone of the way. So does Bess. I shall, I 
shall ! And it will save you, and " (she was 
sobbing now) "I am so sorry about the 
ammunition. But, indeed, dear, it wasn't 
my fault. He said there wasn't enough . . . 
but he would order it and send it as soon as 
it came* And I was afraid you would think 
he did it on purpose if I told you." 

u What do you think, mother?" asked 
Floyd* hoarsely, not daring to look at his 

" I dare not say yes," she replied, " though 
it seems the only chance. JI 

As Floyd turned moodily into the store to 
count out what ammuni- 
tion there was, Loo slipped 
quietly into the house, 

11 I'm afraid it's the only 
way, mother," said Nason, 
as he reappeared in a few 
minutes, "There's barely 
300 rounds of rifle and 
about 800 revolver cart- 
ridges. Enough to stave off 

one rush — and then " 

Floyd's face expressed the 

By this time it was dark, 
and the circle of the 
enemy's fires could be 
seen glowing all round. 
They had drawn still 
further off, and were now 
about 800yds, from the 
homestead* The snow 
was driving a white chill 
mist before the wind, 
which was rising now to 
a gale. 

** If she goes, dear, she 
ought to go at once," said 
Mrs. Floyd, t( for no horse 
will get later through the 
Gap in this snow. But oh, 
Nason, do you think we 
ought to let her ? " 

"It's certain death other- 
wise," said Floyd, u for 

her as well as for us, mother- -but where 
is she ? ■ 

" Here, father, 1 ' and Loo stepped out from 
the shadow of the doorway, 

" Well, Fin— blessed ! " ejaculated Floyd, 
gazing at the figure in front of him. For Loo, 
knowing of old what a skirt meant in a snow- 
storm on horseback, had discarded feminine 
attire, and now in a pair of corduroy riding 
breeches, a thick pair of stockings, top boots, 
a buff jacket of her father's, and an old 
Seymour Trooper's hat, with a bandolier 
around her, a revolver at her side, and a 
carbine in hand, stood to attention before 
her father, in her face laughter and tears 
mingling in a touching strife for mastery, 
Next moment she was in the grip of a 
hug that made her pant with pain and 

" You're your father's own darling ! You 
shall go, and may God help you, as I believe 
He will Isn't shea dainty trooper, mother?" 
But Mrs. Floyd's eyes were blinded with 
tears, and Loo's lips, as she kissed her 
mother again and again, were not so firm 

3 y Google 





and resolute and unfaltering as the brave 
heart within. 

In a few minutes Loo's horse Bess, a fleet 
bay, was ready, saddled up and waiting 
under the shelter of the cattle kraal. The 
snow, driving full in the eyes of the enemy, 
effectually prevented all observation. The 
real moment of danger was when she should 
approach their lines. 

As she swung herself into the saddle, and 
Floyd led her out of the gate, he said to her, 
44 Take her quietly first, Loo. We will give 
you five minutes, and then we'll make a 
diversion on the far side with the rockets 
and Schneiders. The first shot you hear, 
go all you know — right through. Give 
me a kiss, dear, God bless you ! There's a 
rocket in your saddle-bag. Send it off at 
the Gap." 

For one moment her arms hung about her 
father's neck, the next she was swallowed up 
in the wind drift of sleet. 

Dashing back, Floyd hurried with his little 
party to the rear of the house, where on the 
eastern wall his rocket-stand was already 
fixed. The time up, he fired half-a-dozen 
of these into the nearest group of the 
enemy, accompanying it at the same 
time with a rattling volley. The effect 
was magical — filling the night with a wild 
chorus of yells and shouts of terror, sur- 
prise and rally. They could see dim masses 
of natives moving up towards the spot 
attacked ; another flight of rockets revealed 
in the moment's glare a scene of wild 
confusion, as though they were fighting 
with each other. At the same time from 
the stoep came the voice of Mrs. Floyd 
calling : " She's through, dear ! She's 
through ! I saw her turn and wave her 
hat, going full gallop. And some of them 
are after her ! " 

" Give them another lot, Bertie, and then 
get inside all of you to quarters," said Floyd, 
as he ran out to the front. But the snow 
was driving like a cloud across the plain and 
sight of anything was impossible. The 
rockets seemed but to illuminate the dark- 

"There will be no attack to-night, 
mother. You had better come in and lie 
down. For we shall want all our strength 
in the morning, if Loo is not back in 

So the night settled down. And 
through the storm and darkness, in the 
teeth of the enemy rode Loo, with nearly 
forty miles in front of her, before help was 

by K: 


It was with a heart that beat wildly and 
loudly that Loo found herself getting every 
moment nearer the Basuto lines. Would 
the promised diversion never come? she 
thought. Each moment seemed weighted 
with dread of the next. She turned to 
look back. The snow drove in her face, 
choking her eyes and breath. There was 
no sign of the homestead. Suddenly a 
whizz that made her jump in the saddle 
hissed through the air, followed by a great 
curling snake of fire. She heard the startled 
yells of the Basutos, the clashing of shields 
and assegais. But she waited to hear no 
more. With head bent till she lay almost 
flat on the mare's neck, with spurs dug home 
in the flanks in a way Bess had never known 
before, she shot like an arrow through a ring 
of Basutos, knocking one down, trampling 
another under foot, and vanishing into the 
blackness beyond. Swift as she had been, 
several assegais whizzed past her, and she 
heard the shouts of a blind pursuit. Till 
the second flight of rockets went up 
she never moved her position, keeping 
on at that break-neck gallop. But then, she 
could not resist one turn and exultant shout 
of triumph, trusting they would see her in 
the second's glare from the house. And so 
they did, but so too did the Basutos ; and 
her shout was answered by a yell no less 
exultant as seven or eight of the enemy 
dashed after her. There was no mistaking 
her path. The road to the Gap was 
the only road for the umlungi on such a 
night. But in such a chase numbers 
mattered little till the top was reached. 
For uphill there was but room for one at a 
time on the bridle-path. But on the ridge ! 
Loo shivered as she thought how they would 
then spread out and envelop her. But 
gritting her teeth together she urged Bess on. 
And Bess knew this was no capricious bid- 
ding. She knew the meaning of those thick- 
throated yells behind, and at each stride 
carried her beloved mistress farther from her 

Through stream and ravine, rattling across 
the stones, swinging soundless over the 
velvety turf, spurning the flying shale, swerv- 
ing here from a great overhanging rock, here 
gathering together each muscle for a leap in 
the dark, on, on, they go ; the snow and wind 
and sharp, keen hail lashing them from behind. 
Up, and ever up, till the sounds of pursuit 
grow faint yet persistent still, and in the very 
glow of youth within a dozen yards from the 
top Loo lifts her head and shakes her loosened, 




snow-drenched curls and laughs aloud, and 
in her glee gives forth a ringing cheer. 
With one final bound old Bess reaches the 
broad plateau of the Gap and stands panting. 
Lao swings herself off the saddle, plants the 
rocket in the ground and sets it alight ; 
shakes the snow from her hat, and takes a 
drink from the flask her father had given her 
the last thing — then hanging over the ledge 
listens to the still approaching sound of 
pursuit. As she does so a slight moan meets 
her ear. She looks round anxiously, to see 
almost at her feet, half-hidden in the bush 
that grows along the ridge, the pale face of 
her lover, Morris Scanlan. 

11 Morris ! " she exclaims — 
and in a moment is kneeling 
by him, her flask to his lips. 

" I was coming to warn you," 
he said, "But was caught here 
in an ambush, They left me 
for dead. Ill pull through all 
right, though, as far as that goes ! 
Hut you ? " 

"They have no ammunition. 
I am going to NTabankulu for 
help. But they are pursuing me 
--listen ! n 

"Quick! Go!" said 
dragging himself 
forward on his knees 
and hands to the 
ledge overlooking the 
gorge leading up to 
the Gap, "Go! don't 
lose a minute ! Leave 
me your carbine and 
bandolier — I will hold 
the pass ! Go — go ! " 

For one moment Loo hesitated, then, with 
a hot blush, bent forward, kissed him, and 
dashed off to her horse, vaulted into the 
saddle, and went off at a headlong gallop 
down the precipitous incline to the plains 
that led to NTabankulu. 

She was under shelter now for nearly the 
whole way. Leaving Mount Frere away to 
the left, she swung round with the bend of 
the hills, dropping Hess into a long, swinging 
trot. Mile after mile slipped away. The 
moon came stealing out. The wind fell. All 
the voices of the night babbled around her. 
But she saw nothing, felt nothing, thought 

nothing. In front 
of her was only 
one scene, A far- 
off picture like a 
dream, with two 
parts in it. Her 
father and mother 
gazing into the 
darkness from the 
stoep of the old 
homestead, ringed 
round by that 
cruel circle of 
savages ; and on 
the other hand, 
the gleaming 
lights of the camp 
at NTabankulu, 
the clink and 
clank of sabre and 
spurs ; the ring of 
the bugles, and the 
round, cheery face 
of her old friend, 
Lieutenant Hawes. 
Not once did she 
draw rein. And Bess 
didn't ask for it. 
Mile after mile, veld 
and road and ravine 
slipped by, The 
boundary lines were 
passed. The great 
rolling upland glided 
away into the darkness, 
and suddenly before her 
danced the lights of the 
township. Ah ! how 
Hess stretched out her 
neck and drew her 
reeking flanks up at the 
sight, up the last slope 
they mount. To her 
it seems that the pace 
ffl m terrific. A few 




privates wandering from the canteen wonder 
what jaded beast is this staggering in 
in such fashion, One moment she stops at the 
camp to shout a passing word to the watch ; 
the next with a sharp turn to the left, a few 
more strides, and she tumbles off at the door 
of the officers' mess-hut, which she throws 
open and staggering in says, in a voice 
that sounds to herself rather funny and 

that. They had wanted her not to return 
with them ; but, when she insisted, they 
voted her commanding officer, and when 
.she rode out an hour later at the head 
of fifty troopers and a Maxim,, she felt 
that life could hardly hold a prouder 
moment. And though it was no record 
march, that return journey, they were, as 
Hawes had predicted, in plenty of time to 


a long way off, though she tries to keep 
it firm : — 

11 Lieutenant Hawes, the Basutos have 
surrounded the house at Mandileni, and 
father has no ammunition and you are to go 
at once, please* And Mr. Sean Ian s s at the 
Gap and he is " 

And then it seems to her that the officers 
there all begin to waltz round her, and she 
remembers no more till she wakes to find 
her throat burning, and old Lieutenant Hawes, 
who had danced her on his knee from a 
baby, laughing and sobbing over her and 
kiting and hugging her, and saying, again 
and again : — 

" Well, I'm Wowed if it isn't little I^oo ! " 

It was an unforgettable triumph for Loo, 

pick up Scatifatn, who, as his own presence 
testified and the bodies of five dead Basutos, 
had safely held the Gap, and to relieve 
the Mandileni household before dawn. 
Indeed, the Basutos did not wait for 
the impact The rattle of sabres, two 
volleys, and the swish of the Maxim's leaden 
hail awoke the uneasy slumbers of the little 
garrison to the view of an enemy in full 
flight, and to the joys of a meeting too tender 
for my rough pen to depict. 

But it was Loo who, in her uniform, pre- 
sided at the breakfast later on, and who, in 
replying under compulsion to the toast in her 
honour, c:onc luderi it by looking shyly at the 
Mount Frere magistrate, and calling upon him 
to answer her toast to a " Brother in Arms/* 

VoL ST.-7. 

by Google 

Original from 

How a Ship Founders. 

By W. E, Ellis, 

E all know what a wreck is, but 
very few of us have had an 
opportunity of seeing one with 
our own eyes* We are glad, 
therefore, to have an oppor- 
tunity of presenting a unique 
little set of photographs, illustrating the 
various stages in the foundering of a large 
ocean-going steamer. The photos, were 
taken by Mr. Cecil Lightfoot, of the Linde 
British Refrigeration Company, Lower Shad- 
well, E. This company provided the doomed 
vessel with her refrigerating machinery, and 
Mr, Light foot was making the first trip in 
her, for the purpose of explaining to her 
crew the action of that machinery. 

Here is the whole story. The Osaka 
Steam Navigation Company of Japan placed 
an order in England for the construction of 
a passenger steamer, of elegant lines and 
hii;h speed This ship, afterwards named the 
Tai-Hokui was built at Sir Railton Dickson's 
yard at Middlesbrough, and engined by 
Richardsons, of Hartlepool In due time 
the vessel was ready to be handed over to her 
owners; and accordingly she was provided 

one on which the disaster occurred. It was 
a Sunday, and a frightfully foggy Sunday at 
that. This was July nth, 1897. Here we 
had better let Mr, Cecil Lightfoot take up 
the story. 

*' We positively could not see from one 
side of the vessel to the other. Our 
horns and sirens were hooting and screech- 
ing like mad, It was about nine o'clock 
at night, and we were twelve miles to 
the north-west of Cape Espichel, on the 
Portuguese coast, I was sitting in one of 
the main saloons, and the ship was forging 
steadily but slowly ahead, when, without a 
moment's warning, there was a truly frightful 
crash, and I was thrown half-way across the 
room. I picked myself up, and dashed out 
without a moment's delay into the alley-way, 
I waited there for a moment, and then 
gained the deck in record time. I distinctly 
saw the outlines of a great steamer slowly 
dropping astern. She continued to scrape 
the Tai-Hokui and as she cleared, she 
struck our ship a kind of parting blow 
on the poop. Perhaps you can imagine 
into what a state of confusion our mixed 




w T ith a British captain and enough hands to 
take her over to Antwerp, where she was to 
pick up a mixed cargo, consisting largely of 
cast-iron pipes. The Tai-Hoku was also 
under orders to take up the remainder of her 
crew at Antwerp, Altogether, there were 
forty -nine hands, including Japanese, niggers, 
Belgians, Swedes, and Germans — a very 
mixed lot indeed. 

The fifth day out from Antwerp was the 

Digitized by G< 

crew were 
Our captain, how- 
ever, was a splendid 
fellow, and when he 
saw the other ship 
about to strike him, 
he put his helm hard 
down, so that the 
blow was much less 
severe than it might 
otherwise have been. 
Furthermore, he re- 
stored absolute order 
in the ship within 
half an hour of the 

gi The next step 
taken was the letting 
down of the officers in slings for the 
purpose of examining the sides of the 
ship, After careful inspection, however, 
they reported that there was very little 
apparent damage, beyond a few started plates. 
Not content with this, Captain Conradi 
ordered the carpenter to report every half- 
hour. At a little after ten o'clock, 5ft. of 
water was reported in the fore-hold. Now, it 
was the captain's intention to make for Malta, 






but when 7ft. was reported at eleven o ? clock, 
he decided to make for Lisbon instead. An 
anxious night, you may be sure. At half-past 
four in the morning the inexorable carpenter 
reported r6ft, of water ! 

+i The ship was slowly sinking ; there could 
be no doubt of that ; already she was notice- 
ably down by the head, and her forward 
compartments were .slowly but surely filling, 

H Everything was managed splendidly. 
When 1 8ft. was reported, the boats were 
lowered, and each given its proper com- 
plement of provisions, instruments, and flags. 
All through the fatal Sunday, and all night 
abo, the fog was of extraordinary density. 
Sirens and horns, other than our own, were 
heard very frequently, but one could see 

"At last the carpenter reported 22ft, of 
fater, and then the captain ordered every- 
body into the boats at a minute's notice. I 
dashed downstairs to see if I could save any 
of my belongings, hut the only thing I could 
find at the moment was my little hand 
camera, I passed the strap about my 
shoulders in such a way that the instrument 

in no way impeded my movements. 
14 After taking to the 

boats, we remained -* - j " ' ~ 

very near the ship — 

within a hundred yards 

or so. By this time 

day had dawned, and 

I was able to take the 

fim two photographs. 

There was, however, a 

considerable interval 

between them. After 

two or three hours, a 

large vessel, which 

proved to be the 

"=1 Millfield, of Whitby, 
bore down upon us, 
in response to our 
flag-signal 'N. C 1 — 
w h ich , accord i ng to 
the International 
code, means *in dis- 
tress—require assist- 
ance.' The captain 
of this ship conferred 
with our own com- 
mander as to the 
desirability of towing 
the Tai-Hoku^ and 
Captain Conradi and 
some of the officers 
once more went on 
board their ship to 
make the necessary arrangements. Immedi- 
ately afterwards, however, the sinking steamer 
began to roll heavily, and the attempts at 
towing had to be abandoned. 

"At our request, the Millfield left us im- 
mediately after this, she being in a hurry to 
get home. It was our intention to row up 
the Tagus to Lisbon, but the crew being of 
very poor quality, this proved a pretty difficult 
matter. At any rate, we determined to see 
the last of our ship. The end was now very 
near, One extraordinary occurrence that 
hastened it was the displacement of the 
engines, which, as the Tai-Hoku's head 
began to go down, and her stern t.o come 
up, fell right through the ship with a rumbling 
sound like distant thunder, and doubtless 
made another great breach in the bow. 

"After another period of anxious waiting, 
the bridge fell forward, at the same time 
jerking the cords that communicated with 
the sirens, and causing them to send a weird 
scream over the face of the waters. The 
next moment — having, so to speak, wished 
us farewell— the huge ship dived deliberately 
head-foremost into 300ft. of water, and was 
never seen again. As the sea rushed into the 


* *— * — ' f - 

by Google 


Original from 




furnaces, steam and water-gas were generated; 
and these, rushing up through the smoke- 
stack , caused a kind of explosion, which is 
very plainly seen in the last photograph I 
took, just as the ship was disappearing. The 
upward rush of steam carried a great quantity 
of soot from the flues, and this caused a dark 
cloud to hover over the place where the Tat- 
Hoku sank. There was no whirlpool of any 
kind. When this great vessel of 3,100 tons 
took her last dive, the little flotilla of boats 
could not have been more than 150yds. 
distant. Standing by after her disappearance^ 
we saw pathetic bits of wreckage coming 
slowly to the top — hen-coops, a boat, fire- 
buckets, seats, life-belts, and so on. 

" When we had seen the last of our ship 
we set to work to row to Lisbon. As I have 
hinted before, there was not much work to 
be got out of the crew, For one thing, they 
were rather scared by the sharks, which 
abound in those waters, and of which we 
saw three. At about two miles from land, a 
vessel bore down upon us, and met us at 
Cascaes Bay, a little to the north of the 
River Tagus. She proved to be a Portuguese 
pilot-cutter, and from her appearance we 
date the commencement of a further chapter 
of troubles, 

w You would have thought that, consider- 

ing our condition, we 
might at least have 
been allowed to land. 
Not so, however. 
You see, we had no 
doctor on board to 
give us a clean bill 
of health. We were 
kept waiting for 
hours in a blazing 
sun with nothing to 
drink except a little 
water, w T hich was 
positively hot. 
"At the Custom House we were examined 
by doctors, and were then allowed to go to an 
hotel, but were actually forbidden to take 
any of our belongings with us from the 
boats ! 

"I forgot to mention that on our way up 
the Tagus we passed the ship which had been 
the cause of all our misfortunes. 

" This was the Eastbourne, Smyrna to Hull, 
and she it was who had run down the Tai- 
Hoku on the night of July nth, afterwards 
disappearing in the fog. 

"I came home in the Royal Mail steam- 
packet Nik % which called at Lisbon on its 
way from Pernamhuco. I afterwards learned 
that the beautiful Tat- Hoku was, with her 
cargo, insured for ;£ 100,000.'' 

Of course, the destruction of the Japanese 
vessel led to an important action at law. 
This was decided on October 30th last, 
at the High Court of Justice, before Mr. 
Justice Barnes and the Trinity Masters. 
The Eastbourne proved to be a vessel of 
2,240 tons gross, with a general cargo, and 
a crew of twenty-three hands. The case was 
all against hen She was proved to have 
been going too fast, considering the state of 
the weather, and not to have taken adequate 
precautions in the way of look-out and 



by Google 

Original from 

Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of their Lives. 


HP"** Jfl 





AGE 12 MONTHS. ';■.■...'. ;■,.*,■ ./L 


Born 1862, 
EL CYRIL MAUDE is an old 
j Carthusian He emigrated to 
America, and went in for sheep- 
far riling, but soon gave it up to 
become an actor, He first ap- 
peared on the stage in the United States in 
1883^ and after some rough experiences in 
the Wild West, he returned to England and 

AfiF. IO. 

Frvm a Photo, bv W. & 1>. j>u*rw, X«trtiwttr<m-Tr*t, 

played at the Criterion in the following 
year. He was next engaged at the Gaiety 
and the Vaudeville, where he made a hit 

in " Joseph's Sweetheart n and " That Doctor 
Cupid." During the last nine years he has 
played many successful parts at the principal 
London theatres. In aristocratic " old man " 
parts, he is admitted to stand alone. Since 

Mr. Maude, in 
conjunction with 
Mr, Frederic 
Harrison, has 
taken over the 
management of 
the Haymarket 
Theatre, he has 
produced three 
successful plays, 
41 Under the Red 
Robe," " A Mar- 
riage of Con- 
venience," and 
"The Little 
Minister/' He 
is married to 
Miss Winifred 

AGE tH, 

by Google 


frwn a Photo, bv W. A Jh ttomup* Ebur? Strut, <5. W. 

Original from 



Dilkovrhu and Martinifere Palaces. He was 
mentioned in the despatches for his gallantry, 
and after serving with Outram at Ahimlagh, 
all the operations of the 
succeeding months, the 
retaking of Lucknow in 
March, 1858, and in the 
Oudh campaign, he re- 
ceived ihe Indian medal 
with two clasps, 
and was made a 
C.B. General 
Milman has the 
unique distinction 
of being the only 
living holder of the 
Royal Humane 

AGE 18. CNtiftw 


Horn 1822. 
MILMAN, CB., was educated at 
Eton, and became, in 1839, 2nd 
Lieutenant of the 5th Fusiliers. 
He served with his regiment for 
twenty -six years in the Ionian Islands, 
Gibraltar, Mauritius, and in India during the 

Mutiny, On 
his arrival 
in India he 
was sent up- 
country to 

PhirfQ. hf] 

AGE 63 

\.\frmU .1 fox. 

Ffotti •(■ l 

AtiE 32 {Daffutrreolppe* 

Cawnpore, and there joined 
Sir Hope Grant's force going 
from Delhi to Lucknow. He 
was present at the action of 
Marigunge, at the relief of 
Lucknow under Sir Colin 
Campbell, and at the at- 
tack on and taking of the 


Society's gold medal 
The medal has only 
been awarded twice, 
and the first to receive 
it was Grace Darling. 
It was whilst he was a 
lieutenant in Mauritius 
that General Milman 
won the coveted dis- 
tinction, by an act of 
the greatest bravery, in 
saving the lives of five 
of his brother officers. 
He retired on half-pay 
in 1 866, and four years 
later he was appointed 
Major of the Tower of 
London, by Sir John 
Burgoyne, the Con- 





L has gained an envi- 
| able and well-merited 
£tjj& reputation for her 
gracefulness and 
charm as a dancer, and has 
recently displayed very con- 
siderable histrionic ability as 
La Com f esse de Cauda It with 

States, and has appeared on the 
Parisian stage. At one pro- 
vincial town, whilst playing the 

Mr, Lewis Waller in " The Marriage of 
Convenience," Miss Love made her first 
appearance, when only 
twelve years of age, in 
" Alice in Wonderland,'* 
at the Prince of Wales's, 
and since then her success 
has been not less emphatic 
than rapid. It will be re- 
membered, however, that 
her experience has been an 
exceptionally varied one, for 
she has appeared in panto- 
mime, burlesque, comic 
opera, grand opera, farcical 
comedy, drama ("Harbour 
Lights"), and in high 
comedy, so that nothing is 
wanting in her experience 
of the stage save tragedy; 
and it is understood that 
Miss Mabel Love has no 
Shakespearean longings, 
She has toured through the 
provinces and the United 

prom a rhato. by the button SttfWtnpw Company. 

It . & It. tiwntf, fitourfSL 

nurse in " Lord 
Tom Noddy,' 5 she 
received many 
presents from pro- 
fessional nurses in 
recognition of her 
presentation of the 
character. She is 
to be congratu- 
lated on the many 
successes which 
she has achieved, 
and the position 
she has gained in 
the affections of a 
very large public. 

by Google 

Original from 



I Drawing. 


Born 1833, 
Thk Rich t Rkv. Rich yri> 

Fk F.liKKUK Lkkkvrk 

Blunt, D.D., after study- 
ing law for six years 
entered the Theological 
Department at Kings 
College, London, He was 
curate in 1857, and sixteen 


AGE 45, 


years later he was ap- 
pointed Archdeacon of the 
East Riding. I>r. Blunt is 
a Rural Dean in the diocese 
of York, a Fellow of King's 
College, London, Chaplain 
in Ordinary to the Queen, 
and a Canon Residentiary at 
York* Redelivered a course of 
lectures on Pastoral Theology 
at Cambridge, and has been 
Bishop of Hull since 1891, 


AUS 39. 

*hm a Photo, bu KtfbunL 

iftxroi a Photo, bg 8. H r aUw. 

by Google 

Original from 

Glimpses of Nature. 


By Grant Allen. 


HE civilized world could hardly 
get on nowadays without paper; 
yet paper-making is, humanly 
speaking, a very recent inven- 
tion. It dates, at furthest, 
back to the ancient Egyptians. 
i! Humanly speaking/' I say, not without a set 
purpose : because man was anticipated as a 
paper-maker by many millions of years ; long 
before a human foot trod the earth, there is 
reason to suppose that ancestral wasps were 
manufacturing paper, almost as they manufac- 
ture it for their nests to day, 
among the subtropical vegeta- 
tion of an older and warmer 
Europe, And the wasp is so 
clever and so manydded a 
creature, that to consider him 
(or more accurately her) in 
every aspect of life within the 
space of a few pages would 
be practically impossible. 
So it is mainly as a paper- 
manufacturer and a consumer 
of paper that I propose to 
yegard our slim-waisted friend 
in this present article. 

It is usual in human lan- 
guage to admit, as the Latin 
Crrammar ungallantly puts it, 
that Ci the masculine is 
worthier than the feminine, 
the feminine than the neuter" 
Among wasps, however, the 
apposite principle is so clearly 
true— the queen or female is 
so much more important a 
person in the complex com- 
munity, and so much more 
in evidence than the drone 
or male— that I shall offer no 
apology here for setting her 
history before you first, and 
giving it precedence over that 
of her vastly inferior husband. 
Piatt aux dames is in this 
instance no question of mere 
external chivalrous courtesy ; 
it expresses the simple truth 

Digitized by LrOOgle 



va xv.^ a 


of nature, that, in wasp life, the grey mare is 
the better horse, and bears acknowledged 
rule in her own city household. Not only 
so, but painful as it may sound to my men 
readers, and insulting to our boasted mascu- 
line superiority, the neuter in this case ranks 
second to the feminine; for the worker 
wasps, which are practically sexless, being 
abortive females, are far more valuable mem- 
bers of the community than their almost 
useless fathers and brothers* I call them 
neuter, because they are so to all intents and 
purposes : though for some un- 
known reason that seemingly 
harmless word acts upon most 
entomologists like a red rag on 
th e pr o ver bi a I h u 1 1 . They wi 1 1 
allow you to describe the abor- 
tive female as a worker only. 

In No. i f therefore, I give 
an illustration of a queen 
wasp ] together with figures 
of her husband and of her 
unmarriageable daughter. 
The queen or mother wasp is 
much the largest of the three ; 
and you will understand that 
she needs to be so, when 
you come to learn how much 
she has to do, how many eggs 
she has to lay ; and how, un- 
aided, this brave foundress of 
a family not only builds a 
city and peoples it with thou- 
sands of citizens, but also 
feeds and tends it with her 
own overworked mouth — I 
cannot honestly say her hands 
— till her maiden daughters 
are of age to help her. 
Women's rights women may 
be proud of the example thus 
set them. Nature nowhere 
presents us, indeed, with a 
finer specimen of feminine 
industry and maternal devo- 
tion to duty than in the case 
of these courageous and pug- 
nacious insects. 




But I will not now enlarge upon the features 
of these three faithful portraits, " expressed 
after the life," as Elizabethan writers put it, 
because as we proceed I shall have to call 
attention in greater detail to the meaning of 
the various parts of the body. It must suffice 
for the moment to direct your notice here to 
that very familiar portion of the wasp's 
anatomy, the sting, or ovipositor, possessed 
by the females, both perfect and imperfect — 
queens or workers — but not by those defence- 
less creatures, the males. The nature of the 
sting (so far as it is not already well known 
to most of us by pungent experience) I will 
enter into later ; it must suffice for the 
present to say that it is in essence an 
instrument for depositing the eggs, and 
that it is only incidentally turned into a 
weapon of offence or defence, and a means 
of stunning or paralyzing the prey or food- 

The first thing to understand about a 
community of wasps is the way it originates. 
The story is a strange one. When the first 
frosts set in, almost all the wasps in temperate 
countries like England (they delude us into 
calling our own climate " temperate ! ") die 
off to a worker from the effects of cold. 
The chili winds nip them. For a few 
days in autumn you may often notice the 
last straggling survivors crawling feebly 
about, very uncomfortable and numb from 
the cold, and with their tempers some- 
what soured by the consciousness of their 
own exceeding weakness. In this irrit- 
able condition, feeling their latter end draw 
nigh, they are given to using their stings 
with waspish virulence on the smallest pro- 
vocation ; they move about half-dazed on the 
damp ground, or lie torpid in their nests till 
death overtakes them. Of the whole populous 
city which hummed with life and business 
but a few weeks earlier, no more than two or 
three survivors at the outside struggle some- 
how through the winter, to carry on the race of 
wasps to succeeding generations. The colder 
the season, the fewer the stragglers who live 
it out; in open winters, on the contrary, a 
fair number doze it through, to become the 
foundresses of correspondingly numerous 

And who are these survivors ? Not the 
lordly and idle drones ; not even the 
industrious neuters or workers ; but the 
perfect females or queens, the teeming 
mothers to be of the coming communities. 
Look at the royal lady figured in No. i. As 
autumn approaches, this vigorous young 
queen weds one of the males from her 

Digitized by Google 

native nest But shortly afterward, he and 
all the workers of his city fall victims at 
once to the frosts of October. They 
perish like Nineveh. The queen, however, 
bearing all the hopes of the race, cannot 
afford to fling away her precious life so 
carelessly. That is not the way of queens. 
She seeks out some sheltered spot among 
dry moss, or in the crannies of the earth — a 
sandy soil preferred — where she may hiber- 
nate safely. There, if she has luck, she 
passes the winter, dormant, without serious 
mishap. Of course, snow and frost destroy 
not a few such solitary hermits ; a heavy rain 
may drown her ; a bird may discover her 
chosen retreat ; a passing animal may crush 
her. But in favourable circumstances, a 
certain number of queens do manage to 
struggle safely through the colder months ; 
and the wasp-supply of the next season 
mainly depends upon the proportion of 
such lucky ladies that escape in the end 
all winter dangers. Each queen that lives 
through the hard times becomes in spring the 
foundress of a separate colony ; and it is on 
this account that farmers and fruit-growers 
often pay a small reward for every queen 
wasp killed early in the spring. A single 
mother wasp destroyed in May is equivalent 
to a whole nest destroyed in July or August. 
As soon as warmer weather sets in, the 
dormant queen awakes, shakes off dull sloth, 
and forgets her long torpor. With a toss 
and a shake, she crawls out into the sunshine, 
which soon revives her. Then she creeps up 
a blade of grass, spreads her wings, and flies 
off. Her first care is naturally breakfast ; and 
as she has eaten nothing for five months, her 
hunger is no. doubt justifiable. As soon, how- 
ever, as she has satisfied the most pressing 
wants of her own nature, maternal instinct 
goads her on to provide at once for her unborn 
family. She seeks a site for her nest, her 
future city. How she builds it, and of 
what materials, I will tell you in greater 
detail hereafter ; for the moment, I want you 
to understand the magnitude of the task this 
female Columbus sets herself — Columbus, 
Cornelia, and Caesar in one — the task not 
only of building a Carthage, but also of 
peopling it. She has no hands to speak 
of, but her mouth, which acts at once as 
mouth, and hands, and tools, and factory, 
stands her in good stead in her carpentering 
and masonry. She does everything with her 
mouth ; and therefore, of course, she has a 
mouth which has grown gradually adapted 
for doing everything. The monkey used 
his thumb till he made a hand of it; the 




elephant his trunk till he could pick up a 
needle. Use brings structure ; by dint of 
using her mouth so much, the wasp has 
acquired both organs fit for her, and dex- 
terity in employing them. 

The first point she has now to consider is 
the placing of her nest. In this, she is guided 
partly by that inherited experience which we 
describe (somewhat foolishly) as instinct, and 
partly by her own individual intelligence. 
Different races or wasps prefer different 
situations : some of them burrow underground ; 
others hang their houses in the branches of 
trees; others again seek some dry and hollow 
trunk. But |>ersonaI taste has also much to 
do with it ; thus the common English wasp 
sometimes builds underground, but sometimes 
takes advantage of the dry space under the 
eaves of houses. All that is needed is shelter, 
especially from rain \ wherever the wasp finds 
a site that pleases her, there she founds her 

Let us imagine, then, that she has lighted 
on a suitable hole in the earth— a hole pro- 
duced by accident, or by some dead moie or 
mouse or rabbit ; she occupies it at once, 
and begins by her own labour to enlarge and 
adapt it to her private requirements. As soon 
as she has made it as big as she thinks 
necessary, she sets to work to collect materials 
lor building the city. She flies abroad, and 
with her saw-like jaws rasps away a paling or 
other exposed piece of wood till she has col- 
lected a fair amount of finely -powdered fibrous 
matter, I will show you later on the admir- 
able machine with which she scrapes and 
pulps the fragments of wood-fibre. Having 
pthered a sufficient quantity of this raw 
material to begin 
manufacturing, she 
proceeds to work it 
up with her various 
jaws and a secretion 
from her mouth into 
a sort of coarse 
brown paper ; the 
stickiness of the 
secretion gums the 
tiny fragments of 
*ood together into 
a thin layer. Then 
she lays down the 
fl oor of her nest, 
and proceeds to 
taise upon it a stout 
column or foot-stalk 
°f p^ry matter, 
sufficiently strong to 
support the first two 

or three layers of cells. She never builds 
on the ground, but begins her nest at 
the top of the supporting column, The 
cells are exclusively intended for the recep- 
tion of eggs and the breeding of grubs, not 
(as is the case with bees) for the storing of 
honey. We must remember, however, that 
the original use of all cells was that of 
rearing the young ; the more advanced bees, 
who are the civilized type of their kind, make 
more cells than they need for strictly nursery 
purposes, and then employ some of them as 
convenient honey- jars* The consequence is 
that bee-hives survive intact from season to 
season (unless killed off artificially), while the 
less prudent wasps die wholesale by cityfuls 
at the end of each summer. 

Having thus supplied a foundation for her 
topsy-turvy city, our wasp-queen proceeds in 
due course to build it At the top of the 
original column, or foot stalk, she constructs 
her earliest cells, the nurseries for her three 
first-born grubs. They are not built upward, 
however, above the foot- stalk, but downward, 
with the open mouth below, hanging like a 
bell Each is short and shallow, about 
a tenth of an inch in depth to begin with, 
and more like a cup, or even a saucer, than 
a cell at this early stage. The Natural 
History Museum at South Kensington 
possesses some admirable examples of such 
nests, in various degrees of growth ; and my 
fellow-worker, Mr. Knock, has obtained the 
kind permission of the authorities at the 
Museum to photograph the cases which 
contain them, for the purposes of these 
articles. They represent the progress of the 
queen- wasp's work at two, five, and fifteen 

days respectively 
(Nos, a, 3, and 4), 
and thus admirably 
illustrate the in- 
credible rapidity 
with which, alone 
and unaided, she 
builds and populates 
this one-mother city. 
As soon as the 
first cells are formed, 
in their early shallow 
shape, the busy 
mother, sallying 
forth once more in 
search of wood or 
fibre, proceeds to 
make more paper- 


and construct 


an umbrella-shaped 
above thq 

by Google 

Original Tram * 



three saucers. In 
each of the three 
she lays an egg ; and 
then, leaving the 
eggs to hatch out 
quietly by them- 
selves into larvae, she 
goes on cutting — 
not bread and butter, 
like Charlotte in 
T h a ck era y T s s ong — 
but more wood -fibre 
to make more cells 
and more coverings. 
These new cells she 
hangs up beside the 
original three, and 
lays an egg in each 
as soon as it is 
completed. But a 
mother's work is 

never finished ; and surely there was never a 
mother so hardly tasked as the royal wasp 
foundress. By the time she has built and 
stocked a few more cells, the three eggs first 
laid have duly hatched out, and now she 
must begin to look after the little grubs or 
larvae, I have not illustrated this earliest 
stage of wasp-life , the grubby or nursery 
period, because everybody knows it well in 
real life. Now, as the grubs hatch out, they 
require to be fed p and the poor, overworked 
mother has henceforth not only to find food 
for herself and paper to build more cells, 
but also to feed her helpless, worm - like 
offspring. There they lie in their cradles, 
head downward, crying always for provender, 
like the daughters of the horse-leech. For- 
give her, therefore, if 
her temper is some- 
times short, and if 
she resents intrusion 
upon the strawberry 
she is carting away 
to feed her young 
family by a hasty 
sting, administered, 
perhaps, with rather 
more asperity than a 
lady should display 
under trying circum- 
stances. Some of my 
readers are mothers 
themselves, and can 
feel for her. 

Nor is even this 
all The grubs of 
wasps grow fast — in 
itseif a testimonial 


to the constant care 
with which a devoted 
mother feeds and 
tends them : and 
even as they grow, 
the poor queen (a 
queen but in name, 
and more like a 
maid -of -all- work in 
reality) has continu- 
ally to raise the cell- 
wall around them. 
What looked at first 
like shallow cups, 
thus grow at last into 
deep, hollow cells, 
the walls being 
raised from time to 
time by the addition 
of papery matter, 
with the growth of 
the inmates. In this first or foundation-comb — 
the nucleus and original avenue of the nascent 
city — the walls are never carried higher than 
the height of the larva that inhabits them, 
As the grub grows, the mother adds daily a 
course or layer of paper, till the larva reaches 
its final size, a fat, full grub, ready to undergo 
its marvellous metamorphosis. Then at last 
it begins to do some work on its own 
account : it spins a silky, or cottony, web, 
with which it covers over the mouth or open- 
ing of the cell ; though even here you must 
remember it derives the material from its own 
body, and therefore ultimately from food sup- 
plied it by the mother. How one wasp can 
ever do so much in so short a time is a marvel 
to all who have once watched the process. 

While the baby 
wasps remain swad- 
dled in their cradle 
cells their food con- 
sists in part of honey, 
which the careful 
mother distributes to 
them impartially, 
turn about, and in 
part of succulent 
fruits, such as the 
pulp of pears or 
peaches. The honey 
our housekeeper 
either gathers for 
herself or else steals 
from bees, for truth 
compels me to admit 
that she is as dis- 
honest as 





industrious ; but on 



the whole* she collects more than she robs, 
for many flowers lay themselves out espe- 
cially for wasps, and are adapted only for 
fertilization by these special visitants. Such 
specialized wasp-flowers have usually small 
helmet-shaped blossoms, exactly fitted to the 
head of the wasp, as you see it in Mr. Knock's 
illustrations ; and they are for the most part 
somewhat livid and dead-meaty in hue. Our 
common English scrophularia, or fig-wort, is 
a good example of a plant that thus lays 
itself out to encourage the visits of wasps ; it 
has small lurid-red flowers, just the shape and 
size of the wasp's head, and its stamens and 
style are so arranged that when the wasp 
rifles the honey at the base of the helmet, 
she cannot fail to brush off the pollen from 
one blossom on to the sensitive surface 
of the next. Moreover, the scrophularia 
comes into bloom at the exact time of year 
when the baby wasps require its honey ; and 
you can never watch a scrophularia plant for 
three minutes together without seeing at 
least two or three wasps busily engaged in 
gathering its nectar. Herb and insect have 
learnt to accommodate one another ■ by 
mutual adaptation they have fitted each 
part of each to each in the most marvellous 

It is a peculiarity of the wasps, however, 
that they are fairly omnivorous. Most of their 
cousins, like the bees, have mouths adapted to 
honey-sucking alone — mere tubes or suction- 
pumps, incapable of biting through any hard 
substance. But the wasp, with her hungry 
large family to keep, has to be less particu- 
lar about the nature of her food ; she can- 
not afford to depend upon honey only Not 
only does she suck 
nectar ; she bites 
holes in fruits, as we 
know to our cost in 
our gardens* to dig 
out the pulp; and 
slie has a perfect 
genius for selecting 
the softest and sun- 
niest side of an apri 
cot or a nectarine. 
Shu is not a strict 
vegetarian, either ; 
all is fish that comes 
to her net : she will 
help herself to meat 
or any other animal 
matter she can find, 
and will feed her 

grubs upon raw and 

bleeding tissue. Nay, more, she catches flies 
and other insects as they flit in the sunshine, 
saws off their wings with her sharp jaw T s, and 
carries them off alive, but incapable of 
struggling, to feed her own ever- in creasing 

By -and -by the first grubs, which covered 
themselves in with silk in order to undergo 
their pupa or chrysalis stage, develop their 
w + ings under cover, and emerge from their 
cases as full-grown workers. These workers, 
whose portrait you will find on a previous 
page, are partially developed females, being 
unable to lay eggs- But in all other 
respects they inherit the habits or in- 
stincts of their estimable mother ; and no 
sooner are they fairly hatched out of the 
pupa-case, where they underwent their rapid 
metamorphosis, than they set to work, like 
dutiful daughters, to assist mamma in the 
management of the city. Like the imagined 
world of Tennyson's Princess? no male can 
enter. If ever there was a woman-ruled 
republic in the world, such as Aristo- 
phanes feigned, it is a wasps nest. The 
workers fall to at ls tidying up " at once ; 
they put the house in order; they go out 
and gather paper ; they help their mother to 
build new cells; and they assii '£ in feeding 
and tending the still-increasing nursery. The 
first comb formed, you will remember, was 
at the top of the foundation column or foot- 
stalk; the newer combs are built below this 
in rows, each opening downward, so that the 
compound house or series of flats is planned 
on the exactly opposite system from our own 
— the top stories being erected first, and the 
lower ones afterward, each story having its 

floor above and its 
entrance at the 
bottom. At the same 
time, the umbrella- 
shaped covering is 
continued downward 
as an outer wall to 
protect the combs, 
until finally the nest 
grows to be a roughly 
round or egg-shaped 
body, entirely in- 
closed in a shell or 
outer wall of paper, 
and with only a single 
gateway at the bot- 
tom, by which the 
busy workers go in 
and out of their city. 
The nest of the 
tree-wasp, which we 






have also been 
kindly permitted 
to photograph 
from the speci- 
mens at the 
Natural History 
Museum (Nos. 5 
and 6), exhibits 
this final state of 
the compound 
home even better 
and more graphi- 
cally than does 
that of our com- 
monest English 

By the time the 
workers have be- 
come tolerably 
numerous in the 
growing nest, the 
busy mother and 
queen begins to 

relax her external efforts, and confines herself 
more and more to the performance of her 
internal and domestic duties. She no longer 
goes out to make paper and collect food ; she 
gives herself up t like the queen bee, exclu- 
sively to the maternal business of egg-laying. 
You must remember that she is still the only 
perfect female in the wasp hive, and that 
every worker wasp the home contains is her 
own daughter. She is foundress, queen, and 
mother to that whole busy community of 
4,000 or 5,000 souls. The longer the nest 
goes on, the greater is the number of workers 
produced, and the faster does the queen 
lay eggs in the new cells now built for 
her use by her attentive daughters, These 
in turn fly abroad everywhere in search of 
nectar, fruits, and meat, or gather honey-dew 
from the green-flies, or catch and sting to death 
other insects, or swoop down upon and carry 
off fat, juicy spiders; all of which foodstuffs, 
save what they require for their own sub- 
sistence, they take home to the nest to feed 
the grubs, from which, in due time, will issue 
forth more workers. It is a wonderful world 
of women burghers. 

As long as summer lasts, our queen lays 
eggs which produce nothing else than such 
neuter workers. As autumn comes on, 
however, and the future of the race must be 
provided for, she lays eggs which hatch out 
a brood of perfect females or queens like 
herself. It is probable that the same egg 
may develop either into a queen or a worker, 
and that the difference of type is due to the 
nature of the food and training- A young 

by L^OOgle 

grub fed on ordi- 
nary food in an 
ordinary cell be- 
comes a neuter ; 
but a similar grub, 
fed on royal food 
and cradled in a 
larger cell, de- 
velops into a 
queen* As with 
ourselves, in fact, 
royalty is itk tl -ly 
a matter of the 

Last of all, as 
the really cold 
weather begins to 
set in, the queen 
wasp lays some 
other eggs from 
which a small 
brood of males is 
finally developed. 
Nobody in the nest sets much store by these 
males : they are necessary evils, no more, so 
the wasps put up with them. It is humiliating 
to my sex, but I cannot avoid mentioning 
the fact, that the production of males seems 
even to be a direct result of chill and un- 
favourable conditions* The best food and 
the biggest cells produce fertile queens ; 
the second best food and smaller cells 
produce workers ; finally, the enfeeblement 
due to approaching winter produces only 
drones or males. We cannot resist the 
inference that the male is here the inferior 
creature. These facts, I regret to say, are 
also not without parallels elsewhere. Among 
bees, for instance, the eggs laid by very old, 
decrepit queens, or by maimed and crippled 
queens, produce males only ; while among 
tadpoles, if well fed, the majority become 
starved, they become 
So, too, starved eater- 
male butterflies^ while 
females. Little as we 
men may like to admit it, the evidence 
goes to show that, in most instances, super- 
abundant reproductive energy results in 
female offspring, while feeble or checked 
reproductive energy results in male offspring. 
I know this is the opposite of what most 
people imagine ; but, then, science not 
infrequently finds itself compelled to differ 
in opinion from most people. 

The drones, or males, are thus of as little 

account in the nest of wasps as in the hive 

of bees. In both, they only appear for a 

short time, and for the definite purpose of 

Original from 


female frogs ; but if 
preponderantly male, 
pillars produce only 
the well-fed produce 



becoming fathers to the future generations. 
When they have fulfilled this their solitary 
function, the hive l or the nest, cares no more 
about them. The bees, as you know, have a 
prudent and economical habit of stinging 
them to death, so as not to waste good 
honey on useless mouths through the winter. 
The wasps act otherwise. They are not 
going to live through the winter themselves, 
so they don't take the trouble to execute 
their brothers : they merely turn the young 
queens and males loose and then leave the 
successful suitors to be killed by the first 
frost without further consideration, 
r And now comes the most curious part of 
all this strange, eventful history. We do not 
love wasps ; yet so sad a catastrophe as the 
end of the nest cannot fail to affect the 
imagination. As soon as the young queens 
and males have quitted the combs, the whole 
bustling city, till now so busy, seems to lose 
heart at once and to realize that it is doomed 
to speedy extinction. Winter Is coming on, 
*hen no worker wasp can live. So the 
community proceeds with one accord to 
commit communal suicide. The workers, 
*ho till now have tended the young grubs 
*tth sisterly care, 
dmg the remaining 
laivae ruthlessly from 
iheii cells, as if con- 
scious that they can 
never rear this last 
brood, and carry 
them in their mouths 
and legs outside the 
nest There they take 
them to some dis- 
tance from the door, 
and then drop them 
°n the ground to die, 
as if to put them out 
of their misery. As 
for the workers 
themselves, they re- 
turn to the nest and 
s^rve to death or 
die of cold ; or else 
they crawl about 
aimlessly outside in 

a distracted way till the end overtakes them. 
There is something really pathetic in this 
sudden and meaningless downfall of a whole 
v ^t cityful ; something strange and weird in 
this constantly repeated effort to build up 
w& people a great community, only to see it 
fall to pieces hopelessly and helplessly at the 
fast touch of winter. Yet how does it differ, 
a ft« all, from our human empires, save in 


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the matter of duration ? We raise them with 
infinite pains only to see them fall apart, like 
Rome or Babylon, 

So, by the time the dead of winter comes, 
both males and workers are cleared off the 
stage ; and universal waspdom is only repre- 
sented by a few stray fertilized females, who 
carry the embodied hopes of so many dead 
and ruined cities. 

And now that I have traced the history 
of the commune from its rise to its fall, I 
must say a few words in brief detail about the 
individual wasps which make up its members. 
And first of all as to the wasp's head. 
You will have gathered from what I have said 
that the head of the insect is practically by 
far its most important portion, All the work 
we do with our hands, the wasp does with 
its complicated month -organs. And the 
wasp's head is such a wonderful mechanism 
that some little study of the accompanying 
illustrations, though they may not at first 
sight look very attractive, will amply repay 
you. I will try to explain the uses of each 
part with as little as possible of scientific 

In No. 7 you get the head of a queen 
wasp, seen full face 
in front, with the 
m o u t h -orga n s ope n , 
The three little 
knobs in the centre 
up above are the 
simple eyes or eye- 
lets {ocefh\ if you 
prefer a Latin word, 
which sounds much 
more learned). The 
large kidney -shaped 
bodies on either side 
of the head (here 
seen as interrupted 
by the antennae or 
feelers) are the com- 
pound eyes, each of 
which consists of in- 
numerable tiny 
lenses, giving the 
wasp that possesses 
them a very acute 
sense of vision. We do not know exactly what 
is the difference in use between the simple 
eyes and the compound ones ; but either sort 
has doubtless its own special part to play in 
this complex personality. The antennae, or 
feelers^ again, with their many joints and 
their ball-and-socket base, are beautiful and 
wonderful objects. The various parts of the 
mouth are here seen open ; conspicuous 
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6 4 


among them are the great saw-like outer jaws, 
used for scraping wood and manufacturing 
paper ; the long, narrow shield \ the broad 
tongue ; and the delicately jointed palps, or 
finger-like feeders. Notice how some of these 
organs are suitable for cutting and rasping, 
while others lend themselves to the most 
dainty and delicate manipulation. 

No, 8 shows us the same head, decapitated, 



and seen from behind. The shield -like space 
in the very middle represents the point of 
decapitation — the cut neck* if I may use 
frankly human language. Below is the 
hollow or receptacle into which all the organs 
can be withdrawn when not in use, and 
packed away like surgical knives and lancets 
in an instrument case. Observe in the 
sequel how neatly and completely this can 
be done * how each has its groove in the 
marvellous economy of nature. 


In No. 9 you see the organs closing (also a 
back view), the tongue having been now 
drawn in, while the saw-like jaws and the 
delicate feeling palps are still exposed and 
ready for working. No. 8 on the contrary is 
the feeding attitude. 

In No. io (another hack view), the palps 
have been turned back into their special 
groove, and the saw-like jaws are seen free 


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for working* This is the attitude in which 
the wasp attacks a park paling, in order to 
scrape off wood-fibre for the manufacture of 
paper, Here T as you see, the jaws are open. 
In No. ii they are closed, at the end of a 
scrape* These two last attitudes are, of 
course, alternate. One shows the jaws 
opened, the other closed, as they look at the 
beginning and end of each forward and back- 
ward movement* You will notice also that, 
as usual, the insect's jaws work sideways, not 




up and down like those 
of man and other higher 
animals. If you examine 
closely this series of 
wasp's heads in different 
postures, you will see 
how well the various 
parts are adapted, not 
only for rasping and 
manufacturing paper, 
hut also for the more $£ 
delicate work of wall 

~«j ^^11 1 "U"-* w. l2 - — <juatN with POt.n-Fii 

and cell-building. WI ; CS? AND (JNK mmG 

Almost as interesting TOSfmvmi,ni; 
as the head are the 
wings of wasps, of which there are four, as 
in most other insects. But they have this 
carious peculiarity : the two front wings have 
a crease down the middle, so that they can 
Infolded up lengthwise, like two segments 
or rays of a fan, and thus occupy only half 
the space on the body that they would other- 
wise do. It is this odd device that makes 
the transparent and gauzy wings so relatively 
inconspicuous when the insect is at rest, and 
the same cause contributes also to the display 
of the handsome black -and -yellow -striped 
body. No. 12 shows us a queen with her 
wings folded : below is one upper or front 
wing, folded over on itself, and then laid 
across the under wing. No. 13 introduces 


us to a more characteristic feature, common 
to wasps with the whole bee family. 

All these cousins possess by common 
descent the usual four wings of well-regulated 
insects But it so happens that the habits of 
the race make strong and certain flight more 
practically impartant for them than the mere 
f>Wer of aerial coquetting and pirouetting 
possessed by the far less business-like butter- 


DARTS, AND FA 1,1*1* 

flies. Your wasp and 
your bee are women of 
business. 'lhey have 
therefore found it pay 
them to develop a 
mechanism by which the 
two wings on either side 
can be firmly locked to 
get her, so as to act like 
a single pinion. No. 
13 very well illustrates 
this admirable plan for 
fastening the fore and 
hind wings together. On 
top you see the back 
portion of the front wing, 
with a curved groove on 
its inner edge. Below, 
you get the front portion 
of the hinder wing, with 
a series of little hooks, microscopic, yet ex- 
quisitely moulded, which catch into the groove 
on the opposite portion. When thus hooked 
together, the two wings on the right act 
exactly like one. So do the 
two on the left. But they 
can be unhooked and folded 
back on the body at the 
will of the insect To either 
side of No. 13 you will 
notice sections of the two 

wings, which will help 

you to understand the 

nature of the mechan- 
ism. On the right, the 

wings are seen hooked 

together ; on the left, 

they are caught just in 

the act of unhooking. 
I.ast of all, and most 

important of all to 

ordinary humanity, we 

come to the sting, with 

its appendage the 

poison-bag. It is well 

represented in No. 14. 

The main object of the 

sting, and its original 

function by descent, is 

that of laying eggs; it 
is merely the ovipositor. But 
besides the grooved sheath 
or egg-layer (marked S in 
the illustration) and the two 
very sharp lances or 
darts (marked D) which 
pierce the flesh of the 
enemy, it is provided with 
a gland which secretes 


15. — V» A UTS JHA(pN1FUlL 

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Original from 



that most unpleasant body, 
formic acid ; and when the 
wasp has cause to be annoyed, 
she throws the sting rapidly 
into the animal that annoys 
her, and injects the fluid with 
the formic acid in it In No, 
15 the darts are shown still 
more highly magnified. In 
tht: queen wasp, the sting is 
used both for laying eggs and 
as a weapon of offence ; hut 
in the workers, which cannot 
lay eggs, it is entirely devoted 
to the work of fighting. 

Two other little peculiarities 
of the wasp, however, deserve 
a final word of recognition* 
One of these is the elaborate 
brush -and-comb apparatus or 
antennae-cleaner, drawn in a 
very enlarged view in No. 16, 
Whatever the sense may be 
which the antennae serve, we 
may at least be certain that it 
is one of great importance to 
the insect ; and both wasps and 
bees have therefore elaborate 
brushes for keeping these valuable organs 
clean and neat and in working order. They 
always remind me of the brushes I use 
myself for cleaning the type in my type- 
writing machine. The antennne- brush of 
the wasp is fixed on one of her legs ; its 
precise situation on the leg as a whole 
is shown in the little upper dia- 
gram ; its detail and various 
parts are further enlarged below. 
To the left is the coarse or large- 
tooth comb ; to the right is the 
brush ; and above the brush, 
connected with the handle by an 
exceedingly thin and filmy mem- 
brane, is the fine ■ tooth comb, 


used for removing very small 
impurities. With this the wasp 
cleans her precious feelers 
much as you may have seen 
flies clean their wings when 
they have fallen in a jam-pot ; 
only the wasps mechanism is 
much more beautiful and per- 

Almost equally interesting 
with the brush and comb are 
the series of tucks in the 
wasp's body or abdomen, 
delineated in No, 17. By 
means of these extraordinarily 
flexible rings, each held in 
place or let loose by appro- 
priate muscles, the wasp can 
twist her body round so con- 
veniently that, no matter how 
carefully and gingerly you hold 
her, she will manage to sting 
you. They are models of 
plate armour* They work up- 
ward, downward, and more 
or less sideways, so that they 
enable her to cock her body 
up or down, right or left, at 
with with almost incredible flexibility. 

Adequately to tell you all about the 
wasp, however, would require, not an 
article, but a very stout volume. 1 have 
said enough, I hojie, to suggest to you 
that the wasp's history is quite as interest- 
ing as that of her o%er- lauded relation, 
the little busy bee, Indeed, 
I suspect it is only the utili- 
tarian instinct of humanity that 
has caused so much attention 
to be paid to the domestic pro- 
ducer of honey, and so relatively 
little to that free and inde- 
pendent insect, the first paper- 


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Original from 



-> <~x\ 

Bv Gilbert Parker, 


HE Rock was a wall, and the 
wall was an island that had 
once been a long promontory, 
like a battlement, jutting out 
hundreds of yards into the 
gulf. At one point it was 
pierced by an archway. Its sides were almost 
sheer; its top was flat and level- Upon the 
sides there was no verdure ■ upon the top the 
Centuries had made a green field. The wild 
jjecse as they flew north, myriad flocks of 
gulls, gannets and cormorants and all manner 
of fowl of the sea, had builded upon the top 
until it grew rich with grass and shrub. The 
nations of the air sent their legions hero 
to bivouac. The discord of a thousand 
languages might be heard far out to sea or 
far in upon the land. Millions of the 
feathered races swarmed there ; sometimes 
the air above was darkened by clouds of 
them. No fog-bell on a rock-hound coast 
might warn mariners more ominously than 
these battalions of adventurers on the Perce 
No human being had ever mounted to 

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this eyrie, nor scaled the bulwarks of this 
feathered Eden, Three hundred feet below 
shipbuilders might toil and fishermen hover, 
but the lofty home of the marauders of the 
air had not yet suffered the invasion of man. 
It was a legend that this mighty palisade 
had once been a bridge of rock stretched 
across the gulf, builded by the gods of the 
land who smote with granite arms and drove 
back defeated the appalling <;ods of the sea. 

Generations of fishcrfolk had looked upon 
the yellowish, reddish limestone of the Perce 
Rock with an adventuring eye, but it would 
seem that not even the tiny, clinging hoof of 
a chamois or of a wild goat might find a 
foothold upon the straight sides or it. Three 
hundred feet was a long way to climb hand 
over hand, so for centuries the Perce Rock 
in the wide St. I^awrence Gulf remained 
solitary and unconquered. 

But there came a day when man, the 
spoiler, single-handed and alone, should 
assail it 

This is the tale that is told of it : A 
hundred years and more ago, when the English 

Original from 



were fighting the French, the French squadron, 
fresh from destroying the fishing stations on 
the Islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon, was 
lying off the coast of Gasp£, near to this vast 
rock called Perce. Just beyond it, in Mai 
Baie, was good shelter, but because of the 
fishing-posts at Perce, where they could get 
fresh fish and food, Richery, the French 
Admiral, chose to lie in the tideway before 
Perc£ Rock. The master gunner of the 
Admiral's ship was a Jersey man, who, being 
in St. Malo, had been pressed into the 
service. In vain he had protested. There 
was his Norman accent, his captors said ; 
that was evidence enough, and if he was not 
a citizen of France he should be. So he 
was carried off in the Invincible, and with 
her sailed the seas looking for a British ship 
to fight 

His name was Antoine Robichon, and he 
had owned a fishing brig called the Charming 
Nancy ^ which sailed year after year to this 
very port of Perc£, bringing Jersey fishermen, 
and carrying away again the dried cod to 
Europe. When he was pressed at St Malo, 
his brother, who was first mate of the 
Charming Nancy, took her on to Gaspeon 
his brother's business, just the same as if the 
brother himself were sailing her. 

Now Antoine was waiting in the tideway 
where he had come and gone ten years, 
seeing on the shore the fishing-posts of the 
great company, where he had so often eaten 
hard tack, drunk juniper tea, and danced 
with the masters daughters. 

The first day the squadron arrived off 
Perce, Antoine, as he leaned on his great gun, 
looking out to the shore, wondered if the 
daughters were there now ; whether Minois, 
the youngest — Minois the madcap, Minois 
the hunter, who shot deer like a Mohican — 
was still there. It was now two years since 
he had seen this bay of Perc£ ; she was 
seventeen then, she was nineteen now — 
Minois Carnaval, the master's youngest 
daughter. He had asked her for a kiss when 
he bade her good-bye last, and she had 
laughed in his face ; but he also remembered 
that she had waved her red 'kerchief from the 
roof of the fishing-post as the Charming 
Nancy sailed away, and that she had remained 
on the roof so long as the Charming Nancy 
could be seen. 

Was she still there ? And if she was, what 
would she think of him — a gunner now on a 
French ship? He might be ordered to bom- 
bard the very house where she lived ; might, 
indeed, fire the shot which should kill her ! 
She was French, but she was Canadian, and 

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. her country was now England. Two gene- 
rations had nearly passed since Canada had 
been yielded up to the English, and in that 
time Jersey Normans, more English than the 
English, had chiefly occupied the land. 

Antoine studied the matter hard, and the 
more he thought of it the harder to crack 
the nut seemed. His patriotism was not of 
that sort which smiles at martyrdom. He 
was of the easy-going kind who do things 
because they are expected to do them, from 
whom habit takes a load of responsibility. 
He was quite as well treated in this French 
ship as he would be in an English ship, and 
he could be on easier terms with his present 
comrades, because he spoke English badly ; 
but these sailors could understand his 
language and he theirs. He had stubbornly 
resisted being pressed, but he had been 
knocked on the head, and there was an end 
to it ! What was the good of being knocked 
on the head again or being hung at the yard- 
arm, if one could help it ? He was an expert 
gunner, for he had served four years with the 
artillery at Elizabeth Castle in Jersey. When 
he was pressed for the Invincible he had asked 
to become a gunner, and did such excellent 
work against some Spanish privateers that 
the Admiral, delighted — for expert men were 
scarce — gave him a gun, and presently, because 
of his great skill, made him master gunner. 

He grew fond of one great gun. He called 
her ma couzaine, for everything that a Jersey 
man comes to love he calls his cousin. His 
comrades, like himself, did not have much 
concern with questions of loyalty or patriotism. 
They were ready to fight, but that was because 
it was expected of them, and it would make 
little difference to them whether it was against 
the English or against the Turks, or even 
against another French ship. Fighting was 
their trade, and they were expected to fight 
the old Invincible in action for all that she 
was capable. 

Yet Antoine had what was almost like a 
thrill when he saw the British flag run up on 
the posts of the Fishing Company as they 
sailed into the bay. His heart, too, thumped 
a little. Involuntarily he looked up to the 
French tricolour flying over his head. It was 
curious that there should be such a difference 
in two pieces of linen — or was it silk? — No, 
it was linen. Just a little different arrange- 
ment of colour, and yet this flag on the roof 
of the big fishing-shed seemed to rouse his 
pulses to a heat. 

"Man donx dla vie! There is the flag 
of old Carnaval ! " he said. " PVaps Minois 
put it up — that English flag ! " 

Original from 



Whoever put it up, there was the English 
flag defiantly flying on the huts of the great 
fishing-shed, and — yes! there were two 
old twenty -pounders trained on the French 

14 Oh, my good ! Qlu mat grand doux t n 
said Antoine, with a low, rolling laugh, 14 Oh, 
that is very da*n funnee ! " 

The sight of the British flag loosened his 
tongue in English. It was undoubtedly 
ridiculous t those two twenty-pounders train- 
ing on a whole fleet. Presently there was 
more defiance — the Jersey flag, a nice oblong 
piece of white linen with two diagonal red 
stripes : it was hoisted on the house of the 

**Oh, my good ! " said Antoine, again; **it 
will be the old man and the three boys next. 
What, what ? Million thunders, look at 
that ! " 

He laughed uproariously, 
forgetful, of discipline, of every- 
thing save the sight of old 
man Carnaval, his three sons, 
and his three daughters — 
marching with muskets from 
rlie house to the great shed. 

Antoine heard a laugh be- 
hind him. He looked round, 
then straightened himself and 
^tood at attention. It was 
Admiral Richery, laughing 
almost as loudly as Antoine 
Inn j self had done. 

"That's a big splutter in 
a little pot 3 gunner," said he, 
" Petticoats, too : " He put 
his telescope to his eye, 4 * And, 
son of Peter, soarce out of 
their teens. The l/>rd protect 
us, they are going to fight 
my squadron \ n He laughed 
again till the tears came. 
"The glory of Heaven, but 
it is droll, that ! It is a 
farce tin diahk / They have 
humour, these fisherfolk — eh, 
gunner? n 

4i Old man Carnaval will 
fight just the same," answered 
Antoine, bridling up. 

M Oh, ho, you know these 
people, my gunner ? " said the 

4 * These ten years, Excel- 
lency** answered Antoine ; 
"and by your leave, Excel- 
lency-, I will tell you how." 

And, not waiting for per- 

mission (after the manner of a Jerseynian), 
he told the Admiral the story of his old life, 
and of his being pressed, 

u Very good/' said the Admiral, coolly, 
**you Jersey folk used to be Frenchmen ; 
now that you are a Frenchman again, you 
shall do something for the fhg. You see 
that twenty -pounder yonder behind the wall ? 
Very well, dismount it. Then well send in 
a Rag of truce and parley with ' old man 
Carnaval,' for his jests are worth attention and 
politeness. There's a fellow at the gun no! 
he has gone. Take good aim and dismount 
it in one shot. Ready, now -you have a 
good range." 

The whole matter went through Antoine's 
mind as the Admiral spoke. If he refused to 
fire the gun, he would h: strung up to the yard- 
arm ■ if he fired and missed, perhaps other 


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Original from 

7 o 


gunners would fire, and, once started, they 
might raze the fishing post. If he fired and 
dismounted the gun, the matter would be 
only a jest, for as such, so far, the Admiral 
regarded it. In dismounting the gun and 
furthering the jest, he would he saving the 
tarnavals, and helping England too. 

Well, to think that he must fire 
against the place where he had got his 
living these ten years ! Why, he and 
Minois had many a time sat gossiping 
on this very gun that he was asked to dis- 
mount ! 

There was no time to weigh the matter 
further ; the Admiral was frowning. So 
Antoine smiled as though the business was 
pleasing him> and prepared to fire. 

He ordered the men to castaway the tackle 
and breech ings, took off the apron, pricked a 
cartridge, primed, 
bruised the priming, 
and covered the vent. 
Then he took his 
range steadily, 
quietly, There was a 
brisk wind blowing 
from the south— he 
must allow for that ; 
hut the wind wasstop- * 
ped somewhat in its 
course by the Perce 
Rock - he must 
allow for that. He 
knew the wall be- 
hind which it was, 
its weakest part— he 
must take that into 
account, He had 
got what he thought 
was the right eleva- 
tion ; the distance 
was considerable, 
but he believed that 
he could d|o the 
business. He had 
a cool, somewhat 
stolid head, but his 
eye was quick and 
well trained. 

He was ready. Sud- 
denly a girl appeared 

running round the corner of the building, 
mnking straight for the gun. It was Minois ! 
He himself had taught her how to fire that 
very gun. She was going to be gunner now. 
One of her brothers was running towards the 
other gun, a second was following her. 
Antoine started. He had not taken this 
into account. 


" Fire, you fool I " cried the Admiral, "or 
you'll kill the girl/' 

Antoine laid a hand on himself, as it were. 
Every nerve in his body seemed tingling, his 
legs trembled, but his eye was steady. He 
took the sight once more, coolly, then blew 
on the match. The girl was within thirty 
feet of the gun — the madcap Minois ! He 
blew on the match again and fired 1 

When the smoke cleared away, he saw that 
the gun was dismounted, and not fifteen feet 
from it stood the girl as if she had been 
turned into stone, looking — looking dazedly 
at the gun. 

He heard a laugh behind him. There was 
the Admiral walking away, his telescope under 
his arm. Presently he saw a boat lowered, 
even as one of the twenty-pounders on the 
shore replied impudently to the shot Antoine 

had fired, The offi- 
cers were laughing 
with the Admiral, 
and pointing to- 
wards Antoine, 

" A good shot ! " 
he heard the Captain 

11 Was it ?" said 
Antoine to himself. 
"Was it? Then it 
would be the last 
that he would ever 
fire against the Eng- 
lish/* The sight of 
that girl upon the 
shore had decided 
him, had quickened 
some feeling in him. 
He looked over the 
side, and saw the 
boat drawing away 
with the white flag 
of truce in the 
hands of a midship- 
ma Up He wished he 
was in that boat ; 
he then could sec 
Minois face to face, 
There she was, talk- 
ing to her father* 
and stamping her 
temper, had Minois! 
Lhe finest girl in all 

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foot, too. She had a 
Never mind, she was 
the world. 

He would desert to-night. No—not desert, 
that was not the word ; he would escape, and 
go ashore to Minois ! He would go back to 
the English flag, no matter what happened. 

As he sponged the gun, his ma coumine^ he 

Original from 



made his plans. Swish-swash, the sponge 
staff ran in and out ; he would try to steal 
away at dog-watch. He struck the sponge 
smartly on ma couzainfs muzzle, cleansing it. 
He would have to slide into the water like a 
rat and swim so softly — so softly ! He reached 
for a fresh cartridge, and thrust it into the 
throat of ma couzaine as far as he could 
reach, and as he laid the seam downwards, 
he said to himself, " If they see me, one 
minute I can hold my breath under water; 
in one minute I can swim a hundred yards ; 
good ! " He lovingly placed the wad to the 
cartridge, and, in three strokes of the 
rammer, drove wad and cartridge home 
with the precision of a drill. It was a 
long swim to shore, but if he got a fair 
start he thought he could do it. As he 
unstopped the touch-hole and tried with the 
priming-wire whether the cartridge was home, 
he pictured to himself being challenged, 
perhaps by Minois, and his reply. Then he 
imagined how she would say, " Oh, my 
good ! " in true Jersey fashion, as he had 
taught her, and then— well, then, he hadn't 
got any further than that. Thinking was 
hard work for Antoine, 

By the time he had rammed home wad 
and shot, however, he had come upon a 
fresh thought; and it stunned him. The 
Admiral would send a squad to search for 
him, and if he wasn't found they would 
probably bombard the post — " swab the 
caboose," he said to himself. As he put the 
apron carefully on ma couzaine^ he almost 
burst his head with hard thinking. No, it 
wouldn't do to go to Perc£ village and take 
refuge with the Carnavals. And it wouldn't 
do to make for the woods of the interior, 
for the old Admiral might take his revenge 
out of the post And no wonder, for, he 
said to himself with a simple vanity, he, 
Antoine Robichon, was a fine gunner, and 
ma couzaine would never behave so well with 
anyone else. Ma couzaine had been used to 
playing ugly pranks at times, especially if it 
was blowing fresh. She had once torn her 
tackle out of the ring-bolt in the deck, and 
had killed more than one sailor in her mad 
debauch of freedom. She had always be- 
haved well under his hand, and it seemed to 
him that when he blew on the match to fire 
her, the muzzle gaped in a grin of delight. 
Of course the fleet would be furious at losing 
him, and ma couzaine there, the biggest gun 
in the fleet, without her master ! So they 
would pepper the place if they did not 
find him. Decidedly, he must not go to old 
nian Carnaval's. No harm should come to 

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Minois's people that he could prevent. What 
was he to do ? 

He leaned his arns on the gun and shook 
his head helplessly at the village ; then he 
turned his head away from the land. All at 
once his look seemed to lose itself in a long 
aisle of ever-widening, ever-brightening arches 
till a vast wilderness of splendour swallowed it. 
It was a hole in the wall, the archway piercing 
the great Rock. He raised his eyes to the 
Rock. Its myriad inhabitants shrieked and 
clattered and circled overhead. The shot 
from ma couzaine had roused therh, and they 
had risen up like a cloud, and were scolding 
like a million fishwives over this insult to 
their peace. 

As he looked, Antoine got a new idea. If 
he could get on the top of that massive wall, 
not a hundred fleets could dislodge him, nor 
an army follow him. A dozen stones would 
prevent that ; one musket could defeat any 
forlorn hope. He would be the first man 
that ever gave battle to a whole fleet. Besides, 
if he took refuge on the Rock, there would 
\yt no grudge against Perce village or the 
Carnavals, and the Admiral would not attack 
them ! 

There, he had worked it out, and it was 
now a question between him and the Admiral 
and his fleet ; the Carnavals were out of it. 
There was the young sous-lieutenant now on 
the shore with his flag of truce, talking to 
" ol' man Carnaval." There was Minois not 
ten feet away, and there was the young 
sous-lieutenant bowing and scraping to her. 
" Man doux d'/a vie, what did he mean by 
that ? n reflected Antoine. It was all right 
between old man Carnaval and the sous- 
lieutenant — that was clear. There, they all 
were shaking hands now. It was surer than 
ever that he, Antoine, must carry on a 
campaign independent of the Carnavals. If 
he didn't succeed, why then he would be 
hung to the yard-arm or shot. But if he 
stayed where he was on the Invincible, he was 
in just as much danger from a British gun in 

u Ba sit!" Antoine said to himself; the 
only thing was to try and climb Perce Rock. 
What a thing to tell if he did it and came 
safe out of the scrape ! It would increase 
the worth of the Charming Nancy at least 
50 per cent. Certainly he must do it. He 
had pointed out to Minois two years ago the 
spot where he thought it could be done. 
Just at this point the wall was not quite so 
steep, and there were narrow ledges and 
lumps of stone, and natural steps and foot- 
holds, and little pinnacles which the fingers 

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' could grip, and where a man might rest 
The weather had been scorching hot too, the 
rocks were dry as a bone, and there would 
be no danger of slipping. 

Yes T he would try it in any case. He 
would be deserter, patriot, adventurer, 
gunner, master of the Charming Nancys and 
Jerseyman, all in one. He would need — 
what ? If he got to the top, he would need 
twine for hauling up rope— the Carnavals 
would give him rope when the time came. 
He would need stone and flint, and he also 
had some matches, A knife, a hammer, and 
one quilt — he must have the quilt for the 
nights, though he well knew what it would 
mean in climbing. Then there was food* 
Well, perhaps he should starve to death up 
there, but he would take what was left of to- 
day's rations, of which he had eaten very 
little; there was about a half-pound of 
biscuit, near half a pint of pease, a half-pint 
of oatmeal, and two ounces of cheese. He 
could live on that for at least three days. He 
also had a horn of good arrack. When that 
was gone well, he was taking chances ; if he 
died of thirst, it was no worse than the yard- 
arm. The most important thing was a few 
hundred feet of fine strong twine, 
find he knew there was plenty 
in the store - room amongst the 
cordage. He would get that at 
once and conceal it, for it was 
the one thing he could not do 

There was the sous -lieutenant 
coming hack to the Invincible ; 
he was waving his hand towards 
Minois, It was all very fine, he 
reflected, fretfully, to be a sous- 
lieutenant and wear a gold-handled 
sword ; but he, Antoitie, would 
climb Perce Rock, and the fleet 
and Minois and the sous- lieu- 
tenant should see him do a 
thing that had never before been 
done ! 

But how should Minois know 
who it was, perched on Perce 
Rock ? He had not thought of 
that What signal was there ? 
There was none that he knew. 
Well, if he got away safely from 
the Invincible he would go to ol p 
man Carnavals, let her know, 
and then go straight on to Perce 
Rock. Though it would be 
moonlight, the path of ascent was 
on the south side, out of the view 
of the fleet 

Very well, that settled it. He patted ma 
couzaint tenderly. He was sorry to leave 
her, but it had to be. 

He was, however, a man of habit. The 
rest of the day he did his duty as faithfully 
as though he expected to be at his post the 
next morning. He gave the usual instruc- 
tions to the gunsmith and armourer ■ he 
inspected the small -arms ; he chose a man, 
as was his custom, for the gunroom watch j 
and he ate his supper phlegmatically when 
the hour came. 

It was the last quarter of the moon, and 
the neap tide was running low, when Antoine 
let himself softly down into the water. He 
had the blanket tied on his bead, the food, 
matches, etc., were inside the blanket, and 
the twine was in his pocket. He had not 
been seen, and he dropped away quietly 
astern, Another ship lay in his path, and he 
must be careful in passing her. He had got 
clear of the Invincible while the moon was 
partially obscured, Now, however, it was 
shining, but not very brightly. He came so 
near the other ship that he could see the 
watch, and he could smell the hot tar and 
pitch which had been used on the seams after 

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caulking, There was no sea and very little 
wind, and the watch was not alert. He was 
so close at one moment that he could hear 
the laughter of the young foremast-men as 
they turned in. He moved his arms very 
gently, propelling himself chiefly by his legs. 
At last he was clear of the fleet. Now it was 
a question of when his desertion would be 
discovered. All he asked was two clear 
hours. By that time the deed would be done, 
if he could climb Pere£ Rock at all. 

He touched bottom ; he was so far safe. 
He was on the Perce sands. His blanket 
was scarcely wetted. He wrung the water 
out of his clothes, and ran softly up the shore. 
Suddenly he was met by a cry of " Halt ! " 
and a "Who goes there? 31 and he stopped 
short at the point of a bayonet. He recog- 
nised the voice : it was ol 1 man Carnavars* 

He said ll, Sh!" and gave his name — 
Antoine Robichon, of the Charming Nancy, 
The old man 
knew his voice. 
He nearly drop- 
ped his musket 
in surprise. 
Antoine's tale 
of his misfor- 
tunes was soon 
given , but he 
had not yet 
told of his plans 
when he heard 
aquick footstep, 
and Minois was 
at her father's 
side. Unlike 
the old man, 
she did drop 
her mil sket, 
and with an ex- 
clamation, im- 
pulsively threw 
her arms round 
his neck and 
kissed hirn on 
the cheek, 

she said," that's 
for the captain 
of the Charm* 
ing Nancy, 
fcho's come in 
through a fleet of Frenchmen ! " She thought 
he had stolen into the harbour with his little 
ship under the very nose of the Admiral and 
his squadron. 

Ruefully Antoine had to tell her the truth. 

She trembled with excitement at the story of 
Vol. *v. ~io. 


how he had been pressed at St. Malo, and all 
that came after, until this very day, when he 
had dismounted the gun not fifteen feet from 
where she stood. 

"Man alive!" she said; " it was you, 
Antoine— it was you that dismounted that 
gun and nearly killed me ! " 

"It was hard work not killing you," he 
an s we red . 

"(Jo along with Minois/' said oP man 
Carnavah " Moise is at the house ; hell 
help you get away into the woods." 

That was not Antoine's plan, but he did 
not intend it for Car n aval's ears. Time was 
short, his position was perilous- He offered 
no explanation to the old man, but hurried 
away with Minois, telling her his purpose as 
he went. Suddenly she stopped short . 

"Antoine Robichon, ?? she said, "you're a 
fool! You cannot climb the Perc£ Rock. 
No one has ever done it, and you mustn't 

try : you'll be 
safe where 
Moise will hide 
climb the rock 
— ah, no ! no ! !J 
She did not 
understand his 

He pointed 
towards the 

"They would 
not leave a 
stick standing 
there if you 
hide me. No, 
I'm going to 
the top of Perce, 
or break my 
neck— v7d/ n 

Here was a 
revelation ! She 
had never 
thought An- 
toine capable 
of so much 
thinking. For 
a moment she 
could only say, 
"M&n doux 
terrible ! Mon 
doux terrihk / Just think of that — to save 
us all and to climb Perc£ Rock!" 

Then his intention suddenly inspired her. 
"Antoine/* she said, clutching his arm, 
" if you go to the top of Perctf Rock, so 
will I ! n 

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Original from 



In spite of his anxiety, he laughed. 

"Ah, bah, all right ! " he said, " but I must 
get up first. Then I'll drop a cord, and you'll 
tie on a small rope if you've got enough. 
You'll tie it round your waist and come on, 
and then if you slip or get tired, I'll hold 
you safe with the rope. But see — but see," 
his voice dropped, " you can't stay up there 
with me all alone, Minois,— and besides, it 
wouldn't do — the AdmiraPd be firing on you 
too ! " 

" I can't stay alone with you, man doux ! " 
She was angry now. She could have slapped 
his face. " I'd like to know why I can't. If 
you ever want me to kiss you again in all your 
life, Antoine Robichon, you'll thump that 
st-upid brain of yours for more sense to say. 
Come now, am I going up or not ? " 

" Yes," he said, " you can go up if you'll 
go down again when I tell you." 

" I'll go down when you ask me, silly ! " 
she said. , 

"Then I'll go straight to the Rock how," - 
said Antoine. " When they miss me there'll 
be a pot boiling, I can tell you ! " He un- 
loosened the blanket from his head; " If 
I get up," he said, " I'll let the string down 
for the rope, and you'll tie this blanket on 
to the rope. I'll have to run my chance of 
their not missing me before that. Once on 
top they can't hurt me — nothing at all. . . . 
A h, bah ! Good-bye, Minois." 

" Oh, my good ! Oh ! my good ! " said 
the girl, with a sudden change of mood. 
"To think you have been gone two years, 
and now you come back like this ! And 

perhaps " But as he was about to put 

his arms round her, she pushed him away, 
dashed the tears from her eyes, and bade 
him go. 

He had a new confidence in his enterprise. 
Hadn't Minois kissed him ? Hadn't she 
wiped the tears out of her eyes ? Hadn't 
she wanted to come with him to the top of 
Perc£ Rock ? She was the sort of girl to be 
the wife of the master of the Charming 
Nancy ! Without doubt she was. But if 
she came to Perc£ Rock, if she got up — well, 
he'd get up himself first, and then he'd try 
and think out the rest of it, but thinking was 
terribly hard work. It was more than fighting 
a ship to leeward of the enemy. 

The tide was now well out ; the moon 
was shining very brightly. He reached the 
point where, if the Rock was to be scaled at 
all, the ascent must be made. For a distance 
there was shelving where a fair foothold 
might be had by a fearless man, with a 
steady head and sure balance. After that 

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came about iooft. where he would have to 
draw himself up hand over hand, where was 
no natural pathway, where crevices must be 
found for feet and hands. Woe be to him if 
his head grew dizzy, his foot slipped, or his 
strength gave out : his body would be broken 
to pieces on the hard sand below. If that 
second stage were passed, the ascent thence 
to the top was easier ; for though nearly as 
steep, it had ledges and offered fair advantage 
to a man who had a foot like a mountain 
goat. Antoine* had been aloft all weathers, 
and his toes were as strong as another man's 
foot, and surer. 

He started. Those toes of his caught in the 
crevices, held on to ledges, glued themselves 
to smooth surfaces ; the knees clung like a 
rough-rider's to a saddle ; the big hands, when 
once they got a purchase, fastened like an 
octopus or an air-cup. Slowly, slowly up, foot 
by foot, yard by yard, until one-third of the 
distance was climbed ! 

The suspense and strain were immeasur- 
able : it was like bringing the Charming 
Nancy alone through a gale with a windward 
tide, while she yaws and quivers over twice 
the length of her bilge : or it was like watch- 
ing a lower-deck gun straining under a heavy 
sea, with the lanyards and port tacks flying, 
and no knowing when the great machine 
would fly from her carriage and make havoc 
of the ship and the crew. But he struggled 
on and on, and now at last he had reached 
a jutting piece of rock with a sort of fly- 
ing pinnacle, like a hook for the gods 
to hang their shields on, if shields they 

Here Antoine ventured to look below. 
He half-expected to see Minois, but there 
was only the white sand, and the only sound 
was the long wash of the gulf. He drew the 
horn of arrack from his pocket and drank. 
He had 200ft. more to climb, and the next 
hundred — that would test him, that would be 
the ordeal ! 

There was no time to lose. While he hung 
there a musket-shot could pick him off from 
below, and there was no telling how soon 
his desertion would be discovered. He 
hoped it would not be till morning. He 
started again. This was travail, indeed. His 
rough fingers, his toes, which were almost like 
horn, began to bleed. Once or twice he 
swung quite clear of the wall, hanging by his 
hands to catch a surer foothold to right or 
left, and just getting it by an inch, or less, 
sometimes. The strain and tension were 
terrible. His head appeared to swell and fill 
with blood ; on the top it hurt him so much that 

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it seemed to him it must burst* His neck 
was aching horribly with the constant look- 
ing up T the skin of his knees was gone, his 
ankles were bruised. But he must keep on 
till he got to the top, or until he fell 

He was toiling on in a kind of dream, 
which was quite 
apart from all 
usual feelings of 
this world. The 
earth itself seemed 
far away, and he 
was toiling anions 
vas t nesses 9 himself 
a giant with im- 
mense frame, and 
huge, sprawling 
limbs. It was like 
the dreams which 
come in sleep, when 
the body is an 
elusive, stupendous 
mass that falls into 
space after a con- 
futed struggle with 
immensities. It was 
all mechanical, 
vague, almost numb 
—this effort to over- 
come a mountain. 
Yet it was precise 
and hugely expert 
too; for though 
there was a strange 
mist on the brain, 
the body felt its 
way with a singular 
certainty, as might 
some molluscan 
dweller of the sea, 
*hich is sensitive 
Hke a plant, with 
intuition like an 
animal. Yet some- 
times it seemed 
that this vast body 
overcoming the 
mountain would let 
go its hold and slide 
away into the dark- 
ness of the depths. 

Thure was a strange convulsive shiver in 
every nerve. God have mercy, the time was 
come now ! 

No, not yet At the very instant when it 
seemed this panting flesh and blood would 
be shaken off by the granite force repelling 
it, the fingers like great antenna touched 
horns of rock, jutting out from ledges, on 


the third escarpment of the wall. Here 
was the last point of the second and 
worst stage of the journey, , Slowly, heavily^ 
the body drew up to the shelf of lime- 
stone, and crouched in an inert bundle- 
There it lay for a long time. 

While the long 
minutes went by, a 
voice kept calling 
up from below — 
calling, calling j at 
first eagerly, then 
anxiously, then with 
terror. By- and -by 
the bundle of life 
stirred, took shape, 
raised itself, and 
was changed into a 
man again, a think- 
ing,conscious being, 
who now under- 
stood the meaning 
of this sound com- 
ing up from the 
earth — or was it the 
sea ? — below, it 
was a human voice 
which had at last 
pierced the awful 
exhaustion, the 
deadly labour, the 
peril and strife 
which had numbed 
the brain of a man, 
while the body in 
its love of life still 
clung to the rocky 
ledges. It had 
called the man back 
to earth — he was 
tio longer a great 
animal, and the 
rock a monster with 
skin and scales of 

" Antoine ! An- 
toine ! Ah, An- 
toine ! " called the 

Now he knew. He 
answered down :— 
U A11 right! All right, Minois!" 
u Are you at the top ? " 
u No, but the rest is easy." 
t( Hurry, hurry, Antoine ! If they should 
come before you reach the top ! " 

"111 soon be there, Ah, but, Minois, it 
was awful ! " 

H Are you hurt, Antoine ?" 

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Original from 

7 6 


" No, but my fingers are in rags. I am 
going now, a bVtot /" 

11 Antoine ! " 

" 'Sh ! do not speak. I am starting." 

There was silence for what seemed hours 
to the girl below. Foot by foot the man 
climbed on, no less cautious because the 
ascent was easier, for he had become weaker. 
But he was on the monster's neck now, and 
soon he should set his heel on it — he was 
not to be shaken off. 

At last the victorious moment came. Over 
a jutting ledge he drew himself up by sheer 
strength and the rubber - like grip of his 
lacerated fingers, body, legs, knees, and now 
he lay flat and breathless upon the ground. 

How soft and cool it was ! This was long, 
sweet grass that touched his face, which made 
a couch like down for the battered, wearied 
bddy. Surely this travail had been almost 
more than mortal. And what was this vast 
fluttering over his head, this million-voiced 
discord round him, likg the buffetings and 
cries of spirits who welcome another to their 
torment ? He raised his head and laughed 
in triumph. These were the cormorants, 
gulls, and gannets on the Perc£ Rock. 

Antoine Robichon had done what man had 
never done before him : he had done it in 
the night, with only the moon to lighten the 
monstrous labour of his incredible adventure ; 
he had accomplished it without help of any 
mortal sort. 

Legions of birds circled over him with 
wild cries, so shrill and scolding that at first 
he did not hear Minois's voice calling up to 
him. At last, however, remembering, he 
leaned over the cliff and saw her standing in 
the moonlight far below. 

Her voice came up to him indistinctly 
because of the clatter of the birds : 
" Antoine ! Antoine ! " She could not see 
him, for this part of the rock was in shadow. 

" Ah, hah, all right ! " he said, and, taking 
hold of one end of the twine he had brought, 
he let the roll fall. It dropped almost at 
Minois's feet. She fastened the rope she had 
got at the post to the end of it, and called 
to Antoine. He drew it up quickly. She 
had found no rope long enough, so she had 
tied three together. Antoine must splice 
them perfectly. Once more he let down the 
twine, and she fastened it to his blanket. 
It was a heavy strain on the twine, but 
the blanket and the food inclosed were 
got up safely. She called for him to 
lower again, and this time he hauled up 
tobacco, tea, matches, needles, cotton, a 
knife, and a horn of rum. Now she called 

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for him to splice "the ropes properly. There 
was no time to do that, but he tied them 
firmly together and let the great coil down. 
This time were drawn up a musket and am- 
munition, and another blanket. Again it 
was let down, and he drew up a crowbar, a 
handspike, and some tin dishes, which rattled 
against the side of the great Rock derisively. 
Again the rope went down, and two bundles 
of sticks and fagots were attached, with 
flint and steel, also a small roll of coarse 
cotton, and a bear-skin. Last of all came a 
small tent and a bundle of woman's clothes. 

The rope did not come down again at once. 

41 Antoine ! Antoine ! " called the girl 

He was untying the bundle of woman's 
clothes, and trying to make out what they 
were, by holding them up in the moonlight. 
Suddenly he dropped them with an exclama- 
tion of surprise. 

" Oh, my good ! " he said. " Oh, dame du 
guiable ! " 

"Antoine! Antoine! Antoine, miehant" 
she called. 

" 'Sh, 'sh ! Not such a row ! " he answered. 

" Let down the rope ; I'm coming up," she 

" You can't get up," he answered. 

" You'll help pull me up — quick, the 
rope ! " 

" My hands are bleeding ! " 

" Wizard— black biizard ! " she cried, 
angrily. " You lied to me ! " 

" I'll let down your clothes to you," he 

" If you don't let down the rope, I'll climb 
up without it, and if I fall and break my 
neck, it'll be your fault. Quick, for I'm 
going to start ! " 

This frightened him. He tied the ropes 
still more firmly together, made a loop, and 
let the coil drop slowly. The loop fell into 
Minois's hands. 

" Don't start yet," he called down. " 111 
pull when it's all ready. He fell back from 
the edge to a place in the grass where, tying 
the rope round his body, he could seat him- 
self and brace his feet against a ledge of 
rock. Then he pulled on the rope. 

Minois began climbing, and Antoine pulled 
steadily. Twice he felt the rope suddenly 
jerk when she lost her footing, but still the 
rope came in steadily, and he used a nose of 
rock as a sort of winch. He knew when she 
was more than one-third of the way up by 
the greater weight upon the rope, by the 
more frequent jerking when she slipped. Yet 
this was no labour and monstrous struggle 
such as Antoine's climbing — this was the 

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scaling of a conquered wall by the legions of 
the victorious. 

She was nearly two-thirds of the way up 
when a cannon-shot boomed out over the 
water, frightening again the vast coveys of 
birds, which shrieked and honked till the air 
was a maelstrom of cries* Then came 
another cannon-shot, 

Antoine's desertion was discovered. 

Upon the other side of the Rock boats 
were putting out towards the shore. Antoine 
knew perfectly each movement as well as 
if he were watching them. The fight was 
begun between a single fisherman and a 
fleet of French warships, 

His strength, however, could not last 
much lunger. Every muscle of his body 
had been strained and tortured^ and even 
this easier task tried him beyond endurance, 
Hb legs stiffened against the ledge of the 
rock, the tension on his arms made them 
numb — he wondered how near she was to 
the top. Suddenly there was a pause, then 

his eyes, she was bending over him, putting 
rum to his lips as he sat just where he had 
stiffened with effort, 

44 What a cat I was ! " she said. M What a 
wild-cat I was to make you haul me up ! I 
didn't know it was so bad. It was bad for 
me with the rope round me — it must have 
been awful for you, my poor ismmmts — my 
poor scarecrow Antoine ! Ji 

Scarecrow indeed he looked. His clothes 
were nearly gone, his hair was tossed and 
matted, his eyes w r ere bloodshot, his huge 
hands were like pieces of raw meat, his feet 
were covered with blood, 

u My poor scarecrow ! * J she said, and she 
tenderly wiped the blood from his face where 
his hands had touched it. Meanwhile, bugle- 
calls and cries of command came up to 
them, and in the first light of morning they 
could see the Frenchmen and the Carnavals 
hurrying to and fro. 

When day came clear and bright, it was 

known that Minois as well as Antoine had 

vanished. Ol ! man Carnaval was in 

as great a rage as the French Admiral* 

a heavy jerk. Ixive of 

God ! the rope was 

shooting through his 

fingers, his legs were giving way. He 

gathered himself together, and then 

with teeth, hands, and body rigid 

with enormous effort, he pulled and pulled. 

He could not see, A mist swam before 

his eyes. Everything grew black, but he 

pulled on and on ! 

He never knew just when she reached the 
top. But when the mist cleared away from 


who was as keen to hunt down one Jersey- 
Englishman as he had ever been to attack 
an English fleet — more so perhaps. 

Meanwhile the birds kept up a wild tur- 
moil and shrieking* Never before had any- 
one heard them so clamorous. More than 

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Original from 



once ol' man Carnaval had looked at Perc£ 
Rock curiously, but whenever the thought of 
it as a refuge occurred to him, he put it away. 
No, it was impossible. No human being since 
the world began had ever stood on that 
mysterious, lonely, and impregnable place, 
sacred to the birds and the invisible dwellers 
of the air- 
Yet what was that ? His heart thumped 
under his coat. There were two people on 
the lofty island wall — a man and a woman. 
He caught the arm of a French officer near 
him : " Look, look ! " he said. The officer 
raised his glass and looked. 

" It's the gunner ! " he cried, and handed 
the glass to the old man. 

" It's my Minois ! " said Carnaval, after a 
moment, in a hoarse voice. " But it's not 
possible. It's not possible ! ". he added. 
" Nobody was ever there. My God ! look 
at it ! Look at it ! " 

It was a picture, indeed. A man and a 
woman were outlined against the clear air, 
putting up a tent as calmly as if it were on a 
lawn, thousands of birds wheeling over their 
heads, with querulous, fantastic cries. 

A few moments later, ol' man Carnaval 
was being rowed swiftly to the French flag- 
ship, where the Admiral himself was swearing 
viciously as he looked through his telescope. 
He had recognised the gunner. 

He had prepared to bombard the fishing- 
post, and wipe it out of existence if Carnaval 
did not produce Antoine. Well, here was 
Antoine duly produced, and insultingly setting 
up a tent on this sheer rock, "with some 
snippet of the devil," said the Admiral, and 
defying a whole French fleet ! He would set 
his gunners to work. If he had in his ship 
as good a marksman as Antoine himself, the 
deserter should drop at the first shot. " Death 
and the deuce take his impudent face ! " 

He was just about to give the order, when 
Carnaval was brought to him. The old 
man's story annoyed him beyond measure. 
" *' He's no man, then ! " said the Admiral, 
when Carnaval had done, and an officer had 
added that all sides of the rock presented an 
almost perpendicular face. "He must be a 
cursed fly to do it ! And the girl — sacre 
moil he drew her up after him ! I'll have 
him down out of that, though, or throw up 
my flag," he added, and, turning fiercely, 
gave his orders. 

For hours the French ships bombarded the 
lonely rock from the north. The white tent 
was carried away, but the cannon-balls flew 
over or merely battered the solid rock : 
and no harm was done. But now and 

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again the figure of Antoine appeared, and 
a half-dozen times he took aim coolly with 
his musket at the French soldiers on 
the shore. Twice his shots took effect : 
one man was wounded and one was 
killed. Then whole companies of marines 
returned a musketry fire at him, to no purpose. 
At his ease he hid himself in the long grass 
at the edge of the cliff, and picked off two 
more men. 

Here was a ridiculous thing : one man and 
a slip of a girl fighting, and defying a whole 
squadron ! The smoke of battle covered 
miles of the great gulf. Even the sea-birds 
shrieked in ridicule. 

This went on for three days at intervals. 
With a fine chagrin the Admiral and his fleet 
saw a bright camp-fire lighted on the Rock, 
and knew that Antoine and the girl were 
cooking their meals in peace. A flag-staff, 
too, was set up, and a red petticoat waved 
defiantly in the breeze. At last the Admiral, 
who had watched the business from the deck 
of the Invincible^ burst out laughing at the 
absurd humour of the situation. He sent for 
oF man Carnaval. 

" I've had enough," said he. " How long 
can he last up there ? " 

" He will have birds' eggs in plenty : 
there's wild berries, too, besides ground rats 
and all them. If I know my girl, too, there's 
rations gone aloft ! " and he shook his head 

" Come ! " said the Admiral, with mock 
indignation on his red face and a twinkle of 
the eye. " Come, I've had enough ! " 

He gave orders to stop firing. When the 
roar of cannon had ceased, he said : — 

" Sacri moi! There never was a wilder 
jest, and I'll not spoil the joke. He has us 
on his toasting-fork. I shall give him the 
honour of a flag of truce, and he must come 
down. The scoundrel shall marry your 
daughter, fisherman, or we'll know the reason 
why." He was a fat, coarse, high -living 
Admiral, and his big lower lip shook with 

And so it was that a French fleet sent a 
flag of truce to the foot of Perc£ Rock, and a 
French officer, calling up, gave the word of 
honour of his Admiral that Antoine should 
suffer nothing at the hands of a court-martial, 
and that he should be treated as a prisoner 
of war. 

"As a prisoner of war ! " quoth Antoine — 
that meant that he was to be treated like an 
English belligerent and not like a French 
deserter. He hemmed and hawed, and 
backed and filled, and made a function of 

Original from 



the business, and insisted on this as a condi- 
tion and that as a concession, but at last he 
accepted the terms, though Mi no is stormed 
and said that she would stay in spite of all* 
At last she would go only on condition that 
she also should be treated as a prisoner in 
Antoine 's company. 

Antoine was easily able to make these 
terms, and she was lowered by the rope. 
Antoine then fastened the rope-end to one 

to succeed, You have proved, gunner, that 
you are no Frenchman." 

"Then I am no deserter, Excellency," 
said Antoine. 

** You are a fool ; but even a fool can get 
a woman to follow him> and so this flyaway 
followed you, gunner. But well have no 
more philanderings 'twixt Heaven and earth, 
and " 

Minois flew at the Admiral as though to 
scratch his eyes out, but Antoine held her 


point of rock, and then to another, and him- 
self descended, and was conducted with 
Minois to the Admiral with all the honours 
of war. 

There was no coun-martiaL After Antoine 
had told the tale of the ascent at the Admiral's 
command, all the officers standing near, his 
fete was pronounced. The Admiral said : — 

l * No one but an Englishman would be 
fool enough to attempt such a thing, and no 
one but a fool could have been lucky enough 

*' And you are condemned, gunner," con- 
tinued the Admiral, drily, "to marry the said 
maid before sundown, or be carried but to 
sea a prisoner of war." 

So saying, he laughed loudly and bade 
them begone to die wedding. 

And it was done as the Admiral com- 
manded, and the Fishing Post of Perce was 
saved to England, and Antoine and Minois 
sailed the sea in the Charming Nancy for 
many a year. 

by Google 

Original from 

Curious Clipped Trees. 

By Herbert Matthews. 

OST of us have heard of trees 
clipped into curious shapes 
and devices, and the micro- 
Bcopic minority that reads the 
gardening papers may possibly 
have seen drawings of some 
quaint examples of "verdant sculpture" 
or a topiary work/' to give the thing its 
technical name However, this is the first 
time that actual photographs have been taken 
of these wonderful trees for reproduction in 
a popular magazine* 

These curious clipped trees may even yet 
be found at many old country mansions, but 
their quaint shapes are, generally speaking, 
only maintained because they are a relic of the 
past* "Topiary," writes Mr. Leopold de 
Rothschild, "is not appreciated by the great 
critics." It isn't. Somehow, they think it 
isn't quite natural, though why it shouldn't 
be, any more than, say, cutting a lawn, or 
trimming a hedge, one doesn't know. 

The photograph reproduced on this page 
gives a capital idea of the extraordinary 

Also other wonders of [he sportive shears, 
Kair Nature misa doming, there were found : 
(ilolws, spiral columns, pyramids, and piers 
With spouting urns and budding statues crowned ; 
And horizontal dials on the ground 
In living lx>x t by cunning artists traced ; 
And galleys liim, or on long voyage hound, 
Bui by l heir roots there ever anchored fast* 

"Architecture as applied to living trees * 
is many centuries old. Our old friend Pliny- 
had the grounds of his Tuscan villa decorated 
in this way — rows of bristly sentries and the 
initials of ladies cunningly clipped in box. 
Down to the commencement of the eigh- 
teenth century, the leading Italian gardens 
were full of verdant sculpture. That in- 
veterate gossip, Evelyn, tells us he saw at 
Genoa an extensive grove of yews cut to 
resemble a flock of sheep, together with their 
shepherd, and a few wild beasts of no par- 
ticular species, but of menacing appearance. 

The Royal Gardens of Holland, designed 
during the reign of William II L, contained a 
number of trees clipped into geometrical 
figures— junipers shaped into pyramids; marsh- 

Ftqti* a Photo, bjf] 


{J. E. Row, Kendal 

spectacle presented by one of these old 
topiary gardens. It is a general view taken 
in the grounds of Captain Bagot's magnificent 
residence, I -evens Hall, near Kendal, in 
Westmorland. A glance at this photograph 
enables one to understand the following 
plaintive lines : — 

There likewise mote be seen on every side 
The shapely yew, of all its branching pride 
Ungently shorn, and, with preposterous skill, 
To various beasts and birds of sundry quill 
Transformed, and human shapes of monstrous 

mallows as sun -dials ; and big yews cut and 
trained so as to Jorrn complete summer- 
houses. Many capital examples of this sort 
of thing may be seen in the foregoing photo/ 
— pyramids, urns, small arbours, and sundry 
miscellaneous ornaments, all clipped in the 
living foliage. 

But nothing will give you a better idea of 
this curious form of gardening than the 
photo, next reproduced. We have had a 
general glance at the gardens of Levens Hall; 
we now come to examine the individual 

by Google 

Original from 



figures more closely. The peacock 
so sharply outlined here is a par 
ticularly fine example. Remember, 


From a Photo, By J h IL JAw. K&ufal 

the whole is one living y&v tree — pedestal, 
stick t and bird, The border of the bed 
is box. So fine a figure as this requires 
periodical trimming, otherwise the peacock, 
after gradually undergoing fearful transmogri- 
fications, would fade right away in the ordinary 
course of nature. In other words, it would 
grow completely out of shape. 

When glancing at this photo., one should 
not overtook the curiously clipped tree on 
the right-hand side, which is intended purely 
for an ornamental figure, Peacocks seem 
to have been the favourite figure of the 
verdant sculptors. Now, in the case of the 
queer birds at Haddon Hall, one can under- 
stand and appreciate the choice, for a peacock 
forms part of the crest of the ducal family 
of Rutland. At Haddon^ by the way, there 
is also a boar's head, rather grown out of 
shape. The lawn at The Durdans, Lord 
Rose faery's Epsom seat, is adorned with a 
couple of leafy geese, two Dutch hens, and a 
peacock ; and Lady Warwick lias at Easton 
a peculiar sundial, clipped in yew and box — 
hour figures, dial, and all, 

One of the quaintest groups of clipped 

trees in the country is at Pack wood House, 
Vol tv.-n 

Digitized by Google 

in Warwickshire. On a huge 
mound is a big yew clipped 
in the form of a cross. Paths 
branch off from this central 
spot in various directions, 
and are bordered with hedges 
of box. The mound is 
called the Mount of Olives, 
mid close by are the "Four 
Evangelists " — four large 
yews clipped in the shape of 
square canisters- Smaller 
yews, dotted about on the 
lower ground, represent 
(according to the quaint 
design) a mixed multitude 
listening to one of the Evan- 
gelists preaching. And to 
this strange place hundreds 
of pilgrims resorted in by- 
gone days ! 

The photo, next reproduced 

shows that tree in the grounds 

livens Hall which is called 

u Cup and Saucer." Notice 

little sprig of foliage that is 

always retained to do duty as the 

lumdle of the cup. Without this 

handle the figure might pass for 

an old-fashioned hat, whilst the 

AIM- K. 

Prvm » Photo, by J, IL Bogg 

Original from 



4 it'lu ft 1'initG. l*i?\ 

lower part of the tree resembles a mush- 

The French taste in this direction was at 
the summit of its fame during the reign of 
l,ouis XIV. T who employed an eminent land- 
scape-gardener named Le Notre, to decorate 
the gardens at Versailles in such a manner 
"that the nation and the Court might be 
dazzled and enchanted by its novelty and 
singularity," M* Le 
Notre succeeded. 
He went so far in 
the topiary way thai 
the very branches 
of the trees were 
clipped to represent 
the architecture of 
different periods. 
Greyhounds in full 
cry after a stag 
were represented in 
clipped box — a 
rem ar kab 1 e exhibi- 
tion, which caused 
a shrewd English writer to remark that 
" such hunting shall not waste your corn, 
nor much of your coyne," At the same time, 
however, it still calls for a little " coyne" to 
keep up a topiary garden, unless you want 
your "living statuary" to become ragged 
and finally fade away altogether. So much 
animosity was at one time felt against this 
curious work, that one wonders why no 
society was started for its suppression. 
Even Pope grumbled about it: — 

"A citizen is no sooner proprietor of a 
couple of yews, 
but he entertains 
thoughts of covert- 
tfig them into 
giants, like those 
of the Guildhall!" 
By the way, why 
hasn't somebody 
thought of using 
verdant sculpture 
for advertising pur- 
poses ? A couple of 
birds and a rabbi tor 
two in pots, placed 
outside a restaurant 
door, would be cer- 
tain to attract a 
crowd. And one of 
our informants, Mr. 
Donald McDonald, 
of Carter's famous 
seed warehouse (to 
whom we are greatly 

indebted for assistance), tells us that a Belgian 
nurseryman devotes a large area in his 
grounds to the training and cutting of yews 
into grotesque shapes solely for the English 
market. 1 roin which it is clear there must 
still be some demand for these curiosities. 
But clipped , trees can be useful as well as 
ornamental. The u Judge's Wig" seen in the 
accompanying illustration is both. It is 


[J H. !/<!«, JTrttdaJ. 

Fivma J-'AolD, ty] A WELL-GKOOMfiU BIND, 

formed of a number of good -si zed yews, 
and lives admirably up to its name so far as 
appearances go, the close foliage and perfect 
cutting completing the illusion. But besides 
this the "Judge's Wig*' forms the pleasantest 
summer-house you could imagine. Five 
o'clock tea in the Wig is a novel and 
delightful experience ; the table and seats 
you can see for yourself in the photograph. 

Trees of this kind cannot be grown in a year 
— scarcely in a century- Thus it is that- we 
find the best examples of topiary work only 

in the ancestral 
seats of the nobility, 
where these curiosi- 
ties have been the 
delight of genera- 
tions* There are 
likewise a number 
of quaintly clipped 
trees at Elvaston 
Castle, the splendid 
country residence 
of the Karl of 
Harrington, near 
Derby. We are 
greatly indebted to 
Lord Harrington 
for his kind per- 
mission to photo- 
graph these trees, 
The photograph 
here reproduced 
shows a particularly 
plump and perky 


IW* W> Winter, Vtrtf. 

Original from 



peacock mounted 
on a highly elabo- 
rate pedestal. As 
yew is an ever- 
green, these extra- 
oidinary objects 
renin their shape 
all the year round. 

Fashions in 
change, just as 
do fashions in 
dress. Ask our 
lead i ng Ian dsea pe 
gardeners — Mr. 
Milner, of Vic- 
toria Street, or 
Mr. McClean, of 
Derby — and you 
will learn how 
indifferent people 
are nowadays 
towards verdant 
sculpture as an ^riament 
about a mansion. Most 
gardeners, even, are averse 
comider an unnatural 
mutilation of trees. 
The thing is entirely a 
matter of taste, Cer- 
tainly to the ordinary 
person a topiary 
garden, such as the 
one shown in the view 
reproduced on the 
first page of this 
article, is far more 
interesting than a 
mere ordinary park or 
flower - garden. And 
many noblemen and 
others who possess 
gardens like those at 
Elvaston, usually find 
the clipped trees a 
perennial source of in- 
terest to their guests. 

Churches fortunate 
enough to possess 
verdant sculptures 
also find these curious 
trees an attraction. 
Cyclists and others 
will recall the great 
double peacock that 
forms so remarkable 
an arch in front of the 
porch of the parish 
church of Bedfont, a 

L' H J i\ V, \ i-~ V A-i .i HI A AN'D C ROW K . 

Frvm a Photo, by \V. |l\ Winle^ Derby. 

to the grounds 
of the working 
from what they 


F™» a Photo, ftp F, W, Winter % Derby 

by CiC 


delightful little 
village near 
Staines. One of 
these immense 
birds (both are 
clipped in vener- 
able yews) bears 
the date/ 4 1704/' 
outlined in the 
foliage ; whilst 
the other peacock 
has below it the 
initials of a 
former vicar and 
"J, H.,""J.G.," 

u R Ti » 

The next illus- 
tration conveys a 
good notion of 
the bizarre arbo- 
real decorations 
in the grounds 
of Elvaston Castle. Here we see what is 
intended to represent a Chinese pagoda, 
surmounted with an Imperial crown. The 

ornamentation at the 
corners is curiously 
elaborate ; and it will 
he noticed that the 
entire strange edifice 
is thrown across the 
path, so that from 
some little distance it 
looks not unlike a 

The remarkable 
fowl seen in the 
a ceo mpanying repro- 
duction is intended 
tn be a hen. Her 
beak has either 
withered away or 
been broken off. 
The position of that 
penetrating eye is 
not, one fears, pre- 
cisely true to Nature, 
and as the foliage of 
the tree happens to 
be a little thin, the 
moulting season irre- 
sistibly suggests itself. 
Still, this is a good 
specimen of verdant 
sculpture, the curi- 
o u s I y wrought 
pedestal rearing the 
hen aloft in such a 
Original from 


8 4 


i a Photo. & i/] 


way that she is clearly silhouetted against 
the sky. The yew tree on the right, dipped 
with extraordinary precision, would be termed 
a dome by the " sculptors." 

Yet another of the very remarkable clipped 
trees at El vast on is shown here. In fact, 
on looking at this photograph, it is very 
difficult indeed to realize that this 
symmetrical arbour is a living tree r ~ 
at all. The principal trunk and 
all the ramifying branches ar- com- 
pletely hidden beneath the very close 
green foliage ; and it is only by going 
inside that one is enabled to get 
11 behind the scenes, " so to speak. 

Take the peacocks at Bedfont 
Church. If you walk towards the 
church through the arch formed by 
the above - mentioned birds s and 
stand well behind the two ancient 
yews out of which they are formed, 
you will see no shape whatever — 
merely two ordinary trees whose 
branches interlace overhead. And 
when inspecting various items of 
verdant sculpture, many astonished 
people carefully explore the "statues" 
and arbours in this way, solely in 
order to satisfy themselves that these 
amazing structures are in reality 
living trees. 

The (piaint effect of the arbour 
shown in the last illustration, by 
the way, is heightened by the two 
peacocks that rise, one above the 

other, behind it The tails of 
the birds are a little thin, but 
this must be expected in places. 
These clipped trees are not 
by any means well known. 
Many well-to-do people who 
see them for the first time ask 
whether such trees are grown 
for sale anywhere. They are* 
Anyone who likes may send 
over to Rotterdam and buy 
" arboreal outrages " of any 
design — human figures, ele- 
phants, chairs and tables, and 
so on. The cottagers round 
about Rotterdam let their fancy 
run riot among their yews and 
box, and eventually send their 
most successful productions to 
a certain big local nurseryman* 
The next reproduction shows 
a peacock mounted upon a 
dome-like base. In all cases 
the whole consists of one tree, 
cunningly trained and clipped with a pair 
of shears by some Elizabethan gardener, 
whose patience only equalled his ingenuity. 
In the case of nearly all the foregoing 
photographs, the operator took up a point 
of view which only embraced the extremely 
close surface and outline of the foliage, and 

[Wi W* Winter, Bfrbff. * 


»wm a Pkoio 

Winter* Jterb* 

by t^iC 


Original from 



the resulting photos, 
revealed scarce a single 
branch of the tree 
itself. Here, however, 
we can see the smaller 
branches in the pea- 
cock's tail Possibly 
this destroys the illu- 
sion a little, but still it 
enables one to see that 
these are really trees. 

But the whole in- 
ternal economy of the 
tree is pretty well hid 
bare for us in the next 
reproduction, which 
shows us the clipped 
yew known as the 
"Open Umbrella" in 
the gardens at Levens 
Hall T near Kendal And 
well may this curious 
old tree be styled an 
umbrella. One might 
sit on the seat beneath 
it during the heaviest 
shower, and hardly a 
drop of rain would 
percolate through the 
close leaves, A little 
farther away is seen 
a pyraniidical - shaped 
tree, crowned with a 
little cupola. On the right and left 
noticed other curious specimens of 
sculpture, all of 
which would begin 
to look deplorable 

will be 

were it not for the 
constant and unremit- 
ting attention they re- 
ceive at the hands of 
the head gardener. 

The last photograph 
to be reproduced in 
this article shows a 
corner of the gardens 
at Elvaston Castle. 
Truly, it suggests a 
nightmare rather than 
a group of venerable, 
respectable old yew- 
trees ! Here are 
represented a number 
of nondescript birds, 
apparently guarding a 
quaint little arbour. 
But it should be re- 
membered that these 
birds grow just like 
other birds ; and when 
they are young and 
unformed it is difficult 
to classify them. And 
those persons w T ho 
cavil at verdant sculp- 
ture, such as Messrs. 
Gilbert and Onslow 
Ford never dreamt of, 
should always remem- 
ber that it is a form 
of landscape gardening which delighted our 
ancestors j much as the century -old dwarf 

trees in flower-pots 
delight the Japanese 
at the present day. 


a VhtAo. b\t J* H. Wow, Kmdal 

1 a Ffoeto & vJ 


. C*f\r\ct\i- Original from 


[ W- W. Winter iH^y. 

The Brotherhood of the Seven Kings. 

By L. T. Meade and Robert Eustace. 

Introduction.— That a secret society, based upon the lines of similar institutions so notorious on the Continent during the 
last century, could ever have existed in the London of our day may seem impossible. Such a society, however, not only did exist, 
but through the instrumentality of a woman of unparalleled capacity and genius, obtained a firm fooling. A century ago the 
Brotherhood of the Seven Kings was a name hardly whispered without horror and fear in Italy, and now, by the fascinations and 
influence of one woman, it began to accomplish fresh deeds of unparalleled daring and subtlety in London. • By the wide extent 
of its scientific resources, and the impregnable secrecy of its organizations, it threatened to become a formidable menace to society, 
as well as a source of serious anxiety to the authorities of the law. It is to the courtesy of Mr. Norman Head that we are indebted 
for the subject-matter of the following hitherto unpublished revelations. 

L— AT THE EDGE OF THE CRATER. Told by Norman Head. 

T was in the year 1895 that 
the first of the remarkable 
events which I am about to 
give to the world occurred. 
They found me something of 
a philosopher and a recluse, 
having, as I thought, lived my life and done 
with the active part of existence. It is true 
that I was young, not more than thirty-five 
years of age, but in the ghastly past I had com- 
mitted a supreme error, and because of that 
paralyzing experience, I had left the bustling 
world and found my solace in the scientist's 
laboratory and the philosopher's study. 

Ten years before these stories begin, when 
in Naples studying biology, I fell a victim to 
the wiles and fascinations of a beautiful 
Italian. A scientist of no mean attainments 
herself, with beauty beyond that of ordinary 
mortals, she had appealed not only to my 
head, but also to my heart. Dazzled by her 
beauty and intellect, she led me where she 
would. Her aims and ambitions, which in 
the false glamour she threw over them I 
thought the loftiest in the world, became also 
mine. She introduced me to the men of her 
set — I was quickly in the toils, and on a night 
never to be forgotten, I took part in a 
grotesque and horrible ceremony, and became 
a member of her Brotherhood. 

It was called the Brotherhood of the Seven 
Kings, and dated its origin from one of the 
secret societies of the Middle Ages. In my 
first enthusiasm it seemed to me to embrace 
all the principles of true liberty. Katherine 
was its chief and queen. Almost imme- 
diately after my initiation, however, I made 
an appalling discovery. Suspicion pointed to 
the beautiful Italian as the instigator, if not 
the author, of a most terrible crime. None 
of the details could be brought home to her, 
but there was little doubt that she was its 
moving spring. Loving her passionately as 
I then did, I tried to close my intellect 
against the all too conclusive evidence of her 
guilt. For a time I succeeded, but when I 

by Google 

was ordered myself to take part in a trans- 
action both dishonourable and treacherous, 
my eyes were opened. Horror seized me, 
and I fled to England to place myself under 
the protection of its laws. 

Ten years went by, and the past was 
beginning to fade. It was destined to be 
recalled to me with startling vividness. 

When a young man at Cambridge I had 
studied physiology, but never qualified myself 
as a doctor, having independent means; but 
in my laboratory in the vicinity of Regent's 
Park, I worked at biology and physiology for 
the pure love of these absorbing sciences. 

I was busily engaged on the afternoon of 
the 3rd of August, 1894, when Mrs. Kenyon, 
an old friend, called to see me. She was 
shown into my study, and I went to her 
there. Mrs. Kenyon was a widow, but her 
son, a lad of about twelve years of age, had, 
owing to the unexpected death of a relative, 
just come in for a large fortune and a title. 
She took the seat I offered her. 

" It is too bad of .you, Norman," she said ; 
" it is months since you have been near me. 
Do you intend to forget your old friends ? " 

" I hope you will forgive me," I answered ; 
" you know how busy I always am." 

" You work too hard," she replied. " Why 
a man with your brains and opportunities for 
enjoying life wishes to shut himself up in 
the way you do, I cannot imagine." 

" I am quite happy as I am, Mrs. Kenyon," 
I replied ; " why, therefore, should I change ? 
By the way, how is Cecil ? " 

" I have come here to speak about him. 
You know, of course, the wonderful change 
in his fortunes ? " 

" Yes," I answered. 

" He has succeeded to the Kairn property, 
and is now Lord Kairn. There is a large 
rent-roll and considerable estates. You know, 
Norman, that Cecil has always been a most 
delicate boy." 

" I hoped you were about to tell me that 
he was stronger," I replied. 

Original from 



" He is, and I will explain how in a moment. 
His life is a most important one* As Lord 
Kairn, much is expected of him. Ht: has 
not only, under the providence of Cud, to 
live, but by that one little life he has to keep 
a man of exceedingly bad character out of a 
great property, I allude to Hugh Don caster. 
Were Cecil to die, Hugh would be Lord 
Kairn. You have already doubtless heard of 
his character ? f1 

" I know the man well by repute," I said 

"I thought you did. His disappointment 
and rage at Cecil succeeding to the title are 
almost beyond bounds. Rumours of his 
malevolent feelings towards the child have 
already reached me. I am told that he is 
now in Ixmdon, but his life, like yours, is 
more or less mysterious. I thought it just 
possible, Norman, that you, as an old friend, 
might be able to get me some particulars 
with regard to his whereabouts." 

" Why do you want to know ? " I asked. 

"I feel a strange uneasiness about him; 
something which I cannot account for. Of 
course, in these enlightened days he would 
nut attempt the child's life, but I should be 
more comfortable if I were assured that he 
was nowhere in Cecils vicinity. 1 ' 

"But the man can do nothing to your 
boy ! " I said. "Of course, I will find out 
what I can, but w 

Mrs. Kenyon interrupted me. 

"Thank you. It is 
a relief to know that 
you will help me. Of 
course, there is no 
real danger ; but I am 
a mdovv, and Cecil is 
only a child, Now, I 
must tell you about his 
health. He is almost 
quite welk The most 
marvellous recupera- 
tion has taken place. 
For the last twumonths 
he has been under the 
care of that extra- 
ordinary woman, Mme, 
Koluchy. She has 
worked miracles in his 
ease, and now to com- 
plete the cure she is 
sending hi in to the 
Mediterranean, He 
sails to-morrow night 
under the care of I)r, 
Fietta, I cannot bear 
parting with him, but 
it is for his good, and 

Mme. Koluchy insists that a sea voyage is 

" But won't you accompany him ? " I asked. 

" I am sorry to say that is impossible* My 
eldest girl, Ethel, is about to be married, and 
I cannot leave her on the eve of her wedding ; 
but Cecil will be in good hands. Dr. Helta 
is a capital fellow — I have every faith in 

" Where are they going ? " 

"To Cairo. They sail to-morrow night in 
the Hydaspts? 

"Cairo is terribly hot at this time of year. 
Are you quite sure that it is wise to send a 
delicate lad like Cecil there in August ? n 

II Oh, he will not stay. He sails for the 
sake of the voyage, and will come back by 
the return boat. The voyage is, according 
to Mme. Koluchy, to complete the cure. 
That marvellous woman has succeeded where 
the medical profession gave little hope. You 
have heard of her, of course ? 5? 

II I am sick of her very name," I replied ; 
"one hears it everywhere. She has be- 
witched London with her impostures and 

"There is no quackery about her, Norman. 
I believe her to be the cleverest woman in 
England. There are authentic accounts of 
her wonderful cures which cannot be con- 
tradicted. There are even rumours that she 
is able to restore youth and beauty by her 



Original from 





arts. The whole of society is at her fact, 
and it is whispered that even Royalty are 
among her patients. Of course, her fees are 
enormous, but look at the results ! Have you 
ever met her ? " 

" Never. Where does she come from ? 
Who is she?"' 

" She is an Italian, but she speaks English 
perfectly. She has taken a house which is a 
perfect palace in Welbeck Street" 

" And who is Dr. Rett*? " 

"A medical man who assists madame in 
her treatments. I have just seen him, He 
is charming, and devoted to Cecil. Five 
o'clock E I had no idea it was so late. I must 
be going. You will let me know when you 
hear any news of Mr* Doncaster ? Come and 
see me soon. 11 

I accompanied my visitor to the door, and 
then, returning to my study, sat down to 
resume the work I had 
been engaged in when I 
was interrupted. 

But Mrs, Kenyon's visit 
had made me restless, I 
knew Hugh Lancaster's 
character well. Reports 
of his evil ways now and 
then agitated society, but 
the man had hitherto 
escaped the stern arm of 
justice. Of course, there 
could be no real founda- 
tion for Mrs. Kenyon's 
fears, but I felt that I 
could sympathize with her. 
The child was young and 
delicate; if Doncaster 
could injure him without 
discovery, he would not 
scruple to do so. As I 
thought over these things, 
a vague sensation of com- 
ing trouble possessed me, 
I hastily got into my even- 
ing dress, and having 
dined at my club> found 
myself at half-past ten in 
a drawing-room in Gros- 
venor Square. As I passed 
on into the reception- 
rooms, having exchanged 
a few words with my 
hostess, I came across 
Dufrayer, a lawyer, and 
a special friend of mine. 
We got into conversation 
As we talked, I noticed 
where a crowd of men 

were clustering round and paying homage to 
a stately woman at the farther end of the room. 
The marked intelligence and power of her 
face could not fail to arrest attention, even in 
the most casual observer. At the first glance 
I felt that I had seen her before, but could 
not tell when or where, 

"Who is that woman? 7 ' I asked of my 

" My dear fellow," he replied, with an 
amused smile, "don't you know? That is 
the great Mine, Koluchy, the rage of the 
season, the great specialist, the great con- 
sultant. London is mad about her. She 
has only been here ten minutes, and look, 
she is going already. They say she has a 
dozen engagements every night." 

Mine. Koluchy began to move towards 
the door, and, anxious to get a nearer view, 
I also passed rapidly through the throng. I 

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reached the head of the stairs before she did, 
and as she went by looked her full in the 
face. Her eyes met mine. Their dark 
depths seemed to read me through. She half 
smiled, half paused as if to speak, changed 
her mind, made a stately inclination of her 
queenly head, and went slowly down stairs. 
For a moment I stood still, there was a 
ringing in my ears, and my heart was beating 
to suffocation. Then I hastily followed 
her. When I reached the pavement Mme. 
Koluchy's carriage stopped the way. She 
did not notice me, but I was able to observe 
her. She was bending out and talking 
eagerly to someone. The following words 
fell on my ear : — 

"It is all right. They sail to-morrow 

The man to whom she spoke made a reply 
which I could not catch, but I had seen his 
face. He was Hugh Doncaster. 

Mme. Koluchy's carriage rolled away, and 
I hailed a hansom. In supreme moments 
we think rapidly. I thought quickly then. 

"Where to ? " asked the driver. 

"No. 140, Earl's Terrace, Kensington," I 
called out I sat back as I spoke. The 
horror of past memories was almost paralyz- 
ing me, but I quickly pulled myself together. 
I knew that I must act, and act quickly. I 
had just seen the Head of the Brotherhood 
of the Seven Kings. Mme. Koluchy, changed 
in much since I last saw her, was the woman 
who had wrecked my heart and life ten years 
before in Naples. 

With my knowledge of the past, I was 
well aware that where this woman appeared 
victims fell- Her present victim was a child. 
I must save that child, even if my own life 
were the penalty. She had ordered the boy 
abroad. He was to sail to-morrow with an 
emissary of hers. She was in league with 
Doncaster. If she could get rid of the boy, 
Doncaster would doubtless pay her a fabulous 
sum. For the working of her schemes she 
above all things wanted money. Yes, without 
doubt, the lad's life was in the gravest danger, 
and I had not a moment to lose. The first 
thing was to communicate with the mother, 
and if possible put a stop to the intended 

I arrived at the house, flung open the 
doors of the hansom, and ran up the steps. 
Here unexpected news awaited me. The 
servant who answered my summons said that 
Mrs. Kenyon had started for Scotland by the 
night mail — she had received a telegram 
announcing the serious illness of her eldest 
girl. On getting it she had started for the 


north, but would not reach her destination 
until the following evening. 

"Is Lord Kairn in?" I asked. 

"No, sir/' was the reply. "My mistress 
did not like to leave him here alone, and he 
has been sent over to Mme. Koluchy's, 
100, VVelbeck Street. Perhaps you are not 
aware, sir, that his lordship sails to-morrow 
evening for Cairo ? " 

" Yes, I know all about that," I replied ; 
" and now, if you wiil give me your mistress's 
address, I shall be much obliged to you." 

The man supplied it. I entered my 
hansom again. For a moment it occurred 
to me that I would send a telegram to 
intercept Mrs. Kenyon on her rapid journey 
north, but I finally made up my mind not to 
do so. The boy was already in the enemy's 
hands, and I felt sure that I could now only 
rescue him by guile. I returned home, having 
already made up my mind how to act. I would 
accompany Cecil and Dr. Fietta to Cairo. 

At eleven o'clock on the following morning 
I had taken my berth in the Hydaspes^ and 
at nine that evening was on board. I caught 
a momentary glimpse of young Lord Kairn 
and his attendant, but in order to avoid 
explanations kept out of their way. It was 
not until the following morning, when the 
steamer was well down Channel, that I made 
my appearance on deck, where I at once saw 
the boy sitting at the stern in a chair. Beside 
him was a lean, middle-aged man wearing a 
pair of pince-nez. He looked every inch a 
foreigner, with his pointed beard, waxed 
moustache, and deep-set, beady eyes. As I 
sauntered across the deck to where they were 
sitting, Lord Kairn looked up and instantly 
recognised me. 

" Mr. Head ! " he exclaimed, jumping from 
his chair, " you here ? I am very glad to see 

" I am on my way to Cairo, on business," 
I said, shaking the boy warmly by the hand. 

" To Cairo ? Why, that is where we are 
going ; but you never told mother you were 
coming, and she saw you the day before 
yesterday. It was such a pity that mother 
had to rush off to Scotland so suddenly ; 
but last night, just before we sailed, there 
came a telegram telling us that Ethel was 
better. As mother had to go away, I went 
to Mme. Koluchy's for the night. I like 
going there. She has a lovely house, and 
she is so delightful herself. And this is Dr. 
Fietta, who has come with me." As the boy 
added these words Dr. Fietta came forward 
and peered at me through his pince-nez, I 
bowed, and he returned my salutation. 

u I I I ■_' I I I 




he RBTURHSD siv saLL'tat intf, 

"This is an extraordinary coincidence, Dr. 
Fietta!" I exclaimed. "Cecil Kenyan 
happens to be the son of one of my greatest 

friends* I am glad to see him looking so 
well. I am fortunate in having the 
honour of meeting so distinguished a savant 
as yourself. I have heard much about 
Mme. Koluchy's marvellous occult powers, 
but I suppose the secrets of her success are 
very jealously guarded. The profession, of 
course, pooh-pooh her, I know, but if one 
may credit all one hears, she possesses 
remedies undreamt-of in their philosophy," 

" It is quite true, Mr* Head. As a 
medical man myself, I can vouch for her 
capacity, and unfettered by English pro- 
fessional scrupulousness, I appreciate it. 
Mme. Koluchy and I are proud of our 
young friend here, and hope that the voyage 
will complete his cure, and fit him for the 
high position he is destined to occupy/ 1 

The voyage flew by. Fietta was an in- 
telligent man, and his scientific attainments 
were considerable. But for my knowledge 
of the terrible past my fears might have 
slumbered, but as it was they were always 
present with me, and the moment all too 

by Google 

quickly arrived when 
suspicion was to be 
plunged into certainty. 
On the day before 
we were due at Malta, 
the wind sprang up 
and we got into a 
choppy sea. When I 
had finished breakfast 
I went to Cecil's cabin 
to see huw be was. He 
was just getting up, and 
looked pale and unwell. 
"There is a nasty 
sea on/' I said, u but 
the captain says we 
shall be out of it in 
an hour or so." 

"I hope we shall, 5 ' he 

answered,** for it makes 

me feel squeamish, but 

I dare say I shall be 

all right when I get on 

deck. Dr. Fietta gave 

me something to stop 

the sickness, but it has 

not had much effect/ 1 

Li I do not know 

anything that really 

stops sea-sickness/' I 

answered ; "but what 

has he done?" 

11 Oh, a curious thing, Mr, Head. He 

pricked my arm with a needle on a syringe, 

and squirted something in. He says it is a 

certain cure for sea-sickness* Look/' said the 

child, Ixiring his arm, "that is where he did it;" 

I examined the mark closely. It had 

evidently been made with a hypodermic 

injection needle. 

" Did Dr. Fietta tell you what he put into 
your arm ? " I asked* 

41 Yes, he said it was morphia." 
"Where does he keep his needle ? " 
" In his trunk there under his bunk. I shall 
be dressed directly, and will come on deck." 

I left the cabin and went up the companion. 
The doctor was pacing to and fro on the 
hurricane-deck. I approached him. 

"Your charge has not been \vell, Jt I said, 
u I have just seen him. He tells me you 
have given him a hypodermic of morphia/' 

He turned round and gave me a quick 
glance of uneasy fear. 

" Did Lord Kairn tell you so ?" 

II Yes." 

"Well, Mr. Head, it is the very best cure 
for sea-sickness I have found it most 

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li Do you think it wise to give a child 
morphia?" I asked, 

** I do not discuss my treatment with an 
unqualified man," he replied, brusquely, turn- 
ing away as he spoke. I looked after him, 
and as he disappeared down the deck my 
fears became cei t linties. I determined, come 
what would, to find out what he had given 
the boy. I knew only too well the infinite 
possibilities of that dangerous little instru- 
ment, a hypodermic syringe* 

As the day wore on the sea moderated^ 
and at five o'clock it was quite calm again, a 
welcome change to the passengers, who, with 
the permission of the captain, had arranged 
to give a dance that evening on deck. The 
occasion was one when ordinary scruples 
must fade out of sight. Honour in such a 
mission as I had set myself must give place 
to the watchful zeal of the detective. I was 
determined to take advantage of the dance 
to explore Dr. Fietta's cabin. The doctor 
was fond of dancing, and as soon as I saw 
that he and Lord Kairn were well engaged, 
I descended the companion, and went to 
their cabin. I switched on the electric light, 
and T dragging the trunk from beneath the 
bunk, hastily 
opened it. It was 
unlocked and only 
secured by straps. 
I ran my hand 
rapidly through the 
contents, which 
were chiefly clothes, 
but tucked in one 
corner I found a 
case, and, pulling 
it out t opened it. 
Inside lay the 
delicate little hypo- 
derm ic syringe 
which I had come 
in search of. 

I hurried up to 
the light and ex- 
amined it, Smeared 
round the inside of 
the glass, and ad- 
hering to the 
bottom of the little 
plunger, was a 
whitish, gelatinous- 
looking substance. 
This was no ordin- 
ary hypodermic 
solution. It was half- 
liquefied gelatine 
such as I knew so 

well as the medium for the cultivation of micro- 
organisms- For a moment I felt half-stunned. 
What infernal culture might it not contain? 

Time was flying, and at any moment I 
might be discovered. I hastily slipped the 
syringe into my pocket, and closing the 
trunk, replaced it, and, switching off the 
electric light, returned to the deck. My 
temples were throbbing, and it was with 
difficulty I could keep my self-controL I 
made up my mind quickly. Fietta would of 
course miss the syringe, but the chances 
were that he would not do so that night* 
As yet there was nothing apparently the 
matter with the boy, but might there not be 
flowing through his veins some poisonous 
germs of disease, which only required a 
period of incubation fur their development ? 

At daybreak the boat would arrive at 
Malta. I would go on shore at once, call upon 
some medical man, and lay the case before 
him in confidence, in the hope of his having 
the things I should need in order to examine 
the contents of the syringe. If I found any 
organisms, I would take the law into my own 
hands, and carry the boy back to England by 
the next boat. 


f~"rvu>lr Original from 


9 2 


that night, and I 
my bunk longing 


No sleep visited me 
tossing to and fro in 
daylight. At 6 a.m. I heard the 
bell ring, and the screw suddenly slow down 
to half-speed, I leapt up and went on deck. 
I could see the outline of the rock-bound 
fortress and the lighthouse of St. Elmo 
looming more vividly every moment. As 
soon as we were at anchor and the gangway 
down, I hailed one of the little green boats 
and told the men to row me to the shore, I 
drove at once to the Grand Hotel in the 
Strada Reale, and asked the Italian guide the 
address of a medical man. He gave me the 
address of an English doctor who lived close 
by, and I went there at once to see him. It 
was now seven o'clock, and I found him up. 
I made my apologies for the early hour of 
my visit, put the whole matter before him, 
and produced the syringe. For a moment 
he was inclined to treat my story with lucre* 
dulity, but by degrees he became interested, 
and ended by inviting me to breakfast with 
him. After the meal we repaired to his 
consulting-room to make our investigations. 
He brought out his microscope, which I saw, 
to tny delight, was of the latest design, and I 
set to work at once, while 
he watched me with evident 
interest, At last the crucial 
moment came, and I bent 
over the instrument and 
adjusted the focus on my 
preparation. My suspicions 
were only too well confirmed 
by what I saw. The sub- 
stance which I had extracted 
from the syringe was a mass 
of micro-organisms, but of 
what nature I did not know. 
I had never seen any quite 
like them before. I drew 

"I wish you would look at 
this," I said ".You tell me 
you have devoted consider- 
able attention to bacterio- 
logy. Please tell me what 
you see," 

Dr. Benson applied his eye to 
the instrument, regulating the focus 
for a few moments, in silence ; then 
he raised his head, and looked at 
me with a curious expression, 

"Where did this culture come 
from ? " he asked. 

"From London, I presume/ 7 ] 

"It is extraordinary," he said, 

with emphasis, "but there is no doubt 
whatever that these organisms are the 
specific germs of the very disease I 
have studied here so assiduously; they 
are the micrococci of Mediterranean fever, 
the minute round or oval bacteria. They 
are absolutely characteristic*" 

I jumped to my feet. 

£t Is that so?" I cried* The diabolical 
nature of the plot was only too plain. These 
germs injected into a patient would produce 
a fever which only occurs in the Med iter* 
ranean. The fact that the boy had been in 
the Mediterranean even for a short time 
would be a complete blind as to the way 
in which they obtained access to the body, 
as everyone would think the disease occurred 
from natural causes. 

" How long is the period of incubation ? " 
I asked. 

"About ten days," replied Dr« Benson. 

I extended my hand. 

" You have done me an invaluable service," 
I said. 

"I may possibly be able to do you a still 
further service," was his reply. " I have 
made Mediterranean fever the study of my 

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life, and have, I believe, discovered an anti- 
toxin for it I have tried my discovery on 
the patients of the naval hospital with 
excellent results. The local disturbance is 
slight, and I have never found bad symptoms 
follow the treatment. If you will bring the 
boy to me I will administer the antidote 
without delay." 

I considered for a moment, then I said : 
"My position is a terrible one. and I am 
inclined to accept your proposition. Under 
the circumstances it is the only chance." 

11 It is," repeated Dr. Benson. "I shall be 
at your service whenever you need me." 

I bade him good-bye and quickly left the 

It was now ten o'clock. My first object 
was to find Dr. Fietta, to speak to him 
boldly, and take the boy away by main force 
if necessary. I rushed back to the Grand 
Hotel, where I learned that a boy and a man, 
answering to the description of Dr. Fietta 
and Cecil, had breakfasted there, but had 
gone out again immediately afterwards. The 
Hydaspes I knew was to coal, and would not 
leave Malta before one o'clock. My only 
chance, therefore, was to catch them as 
they came on board. Until then I could 
do nothing. At twelve o'clock I went down 
to the quay and took a boat to the Hydaspes. 
Seeing no sign of Fietta and the boy on deck, 
I made my way at once to Lord Kairn's 
cabin. The door was open and the place in 
confusion — every vestige of baggage had dis- 
appeared. Absolutely at a loss to divine the 
cause of this unexpected discovery, I pressed 
the electric* bell. In a moment a steward 

II Has Lord Kairn left the ship ? " I asked, 
my heart beating fast. 

" I believe so, sir," replied the man. " I 
had orders to pack the luggage and send it 
on shore. It went about an hour ago." 

I waited to hear no more. Rushing to my 
cabin, I began flinging my things pell-mell 
into my portmanteau. I was full of appre- 
hension at this sudden move of Dr. Fietta's. 
Calling a steward who was passing to help 
me, I got my things on deck, and in a few 
moments had them in a boat and was 
making rapidly for the shore. I drove 
back at once to the Grand Hotel in the 
Strada Reale. 

" Did the gentleman who came here to-day 
from the Hydaspes^ accompanied by a little 
boy, engage rooms for the night ? " I asked 
of the proprietor in the bureau at the top of 
the stairs. 

" No, sir," answered the man ; " they 

by V_^OOgle 

breakfasted here, but did not return. I 
think they said they were going to the 
gardens of San Antonio." 

For a minute or two I paced the hall in 
uncontrollable excitement. I was completely 
at a loss what step to take next Then 
suddenly an idea struck me. I hurried down 
the steps and made my way to Cook's office. 

"A gentleman of that description took 
two tickets for Naples by the Spartivento^ a 
Rupertino boat, two hours ago," said the 
clerk, in answer to my inquiries. " She has 
started by now," he continued, glancing up 
at the clock. 

" To Naples ? " I cried. A sickening fear 
seized me. The very name of the hated 
place struck me like a poisoned weapon. 

"Is it too late to catch her ? '' I asked. 

11 Yes, sir, she has gone." 

" Then what is the quickest route by which 
I can reach Naples ? " 

*' You can go by the Gingra, a P. and O. 
boat, to-night to Brindisi, and then overland. 
That is the quickest way now." 

I at once took my passage and left the 
office. There was not the least doubt what 
had occurred. Dr. Fietta had missed his 
syringe, and in consequence had immediately 
altered his plans. He was now taking the 
lad to the very fountain-head of the Brother- 
hood, where other means if necessary would 
be employed to put an end to his life. 

It was nine o'clock in the evening, three 
days later, when, from the window of the 
railway carriage, I caught my first glimpse of 
the glow on the summit of Vesuvius. During 
the journey, I had decided on my line of 
action. Leaving my luggage in the cloak- 
room, I entered a carriage and began to visit 
hotel after hotel. For a long time I had no 
success. It was past eleven o'clock that night 
when, weary and heart-sick, I drew up at the 
Hotel Londres. I went to the concierge with 
my usual question, expecting the invariable 
reply, but a glow of relief swept over me 
when the man said : — 

" Dr. Fietta is out, sir, but the young lord 
is in. He is in bed — will you call to-morrow? 
What name shall I say ? " 

" I shall stay here," I answered ; " let me 
have a room at once, and have my bag taken 
to it What is the number of Lord Kairn's 
room ? " 

4< Number forty-six. But he will be asleep, 
sir ; you cannot see him now." 

I made no answer, but going quickly 
upstairs, I found the boy's room. I knocked ; 
there was no reply, I turned the handle and 
entered. All was dark. Striking a match I 

a I I I '.' I 1 1 




looked round In a white bed at the further 
end lay the child, I went up and bent softly 
over him. He was lying with one hand 
beneath his cheek. He looked worn and 
tired, and now and then moaned as if in 
trouble. When I touched him lightly on the 
shoulder, he started up and opened his eyes, 
A dazed expression of surprise swept over his 


face ; then with an eager cry he stretched 
out both his hands and clasped one of mine. 

" I am so glad to see you," he said. li Dr. 
Fietta told me you were angry— that I had 
offended you. I very nearly cried when 1 
missed you that morning at Malta, and Dr. 
Fietta said I should never see you any more. 
I don't like him-— I am afraid of him. Have 
you come to take me home ? " As he spoke 
he glanced eagerly round in the direction of 
the door, clutching my hand still tighter as 
he did so. 

11 Yes, I shall take you home, Cecil. I 
have come for the purpose," I answered ; 
" but are you quite well ? n 

by Google 

il That's just it ; I am not. I have awful 

dreams at night Oh, I am so glad you have 

come back, and you are not angry. Did you 

say you were really going to take me home ? n 

" To-morrow, if you like," 

41 Please do. I am — stoop down, I want 

to whisper to you — I am afraid of Dr. Fietta." 

" What is your reason ? " I asked. 

"There is no 
reason/ 7 answered 
the child, u but some- 
how I dread him, I 
have done so ever 
since you left us 
at Malta. Once I 
woke in the middle 
of the night and he 
was bending over me 
— he had such a 
queer look on his 
face, and he used that 
syringe again. He 
was putting some- 
thing into my arm— 
he told me it was 
morphia, I did not 
want him to do it, for 
I thought you would 
rather he didn't. I 
wish mother had sent 
me away with you. 
I am afraid of him." 
u Now that I have 
come, everything will 
be right," I said, 

" And you will take 
me home to-morrow?" 
" But I should like 
to see Vesuvius first. 
Now that we are here 
it seems a pity that 
I should not see it. 
Can you take me to 
Vesuvius to-morrow morning, and home in the 
evening, and will you explain to Dr. Fietta ?" 
" I will explain everything. Now go to 
sleep, I am in the house, and you have 
nothing whatever to fear." 

" I am very glad you have come," he said, 
wearily. He flung himself back on his pillow* ; 
the exhausted look was very manifest on his 
small, childish face, I left the room, shutting 
the door, softly- 

To say that my blood boiled can express 
but little the emotions which ran through 
my frame— the child was in the hands of a 
monster. He was in the very clutch of the 
Brotherhood, whose intention was to destroy 
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his life. I thought for a moment. There 
was nothing now for it but to see Fietta, tell 
him that I had discovered his machinations, 
claim the boy, and take him away by force. 
I knew that 1 was treading on dangerous 
ground. At any moment my own life might 
be the forfeit, for my supposed treachery to the 
cause whose vows I had so madly taken. Still, 
if I saved the boy nothing else really mattered. 

I went downstairs into the great central hall, 
interviewed the concierge, who told me that 
Fietta had returned, asked for the number of 
his private sitting-room, and, going there, 
opened the door without knocking. At a 
writing-table at the farther end sat the doctor. 
He turned as I entered, and, recognising me, 
started up with a sudden exclamation. I 
noticed that his face changed colour, and 
that his beady eyes flashed an ugly fire. 
Then, recovering himself, he advanced 
quietly towards me. 

" This is another of your unexpected sur- 
prises, Mr. Head," he said, with politeness. 
"You have not, then, gone on to Cairo? 
You change your plans rapidly." 

" Not more so than you do, Dr. Fietta," I 
replied, watching him as I spoke. 

" I was obliged to change my mind," he 
answered. " I heard in Malta that cholera 
had broken out in Cairo. I could not there- 
fore take my patient there. May I inquire 
why I have the honour of this visit ? You 
will excuse my saying so, but this action of 
yours forces me to suspect that you are 
following me. Have you a reason ? " 

He stood with his hands behind him, and 
a look of furtive vigilance crept into his small 

" This is my reason," I replied. I boldly 
drew the hypodermic syringe from my pocket 
as I spoke. 

With an inconceivably rapid movement he 
hurried past me, locked the door, and placed 
the key in his pocket , As he turned towards 
me again I saw the glint of a long, bright 
stiletto which he had drawn and was holding 
in his right hand, which he kept behind him. 

" I see you are armed," I said, - quietly, 
"but do not be too hasty. I have a few 
words to say to you." As I spoke I looked 
him full in the face, then I dropped my voice. 

" I am one of the Brotherhood of the Seven 

When I uttered these magical words he 
started back and looked at me with dilated 

" Your proofs, instantly, or you are a dead 
man," he cried, hoarsely. Beads of sweat 
gleamed upon his forehead. 

Digitized by Google 

" Put that weapon on the table, give me 
your right hand, and you shall have the 
proofs you need," I answered. 

He hesitated, then changed the stiletto to 
his left hand, and gave me his right. I 
grasped it in the peculiar manner which I 
had never forgotten, and bent my head close 
to his. The next moment I had uttered the 
pass-word of the Brotherhood. 

" La Regina," I whispered. 

"E la regina? he replied, flinging the 
stiletto on the carpet. 

" Ah ! " he continued, with an expression 
of the strongest relief, while he wiped the 
moisture from his forehead. " This is too 
wonderful. And now tell me, my friend, 
what your mission is ? I knew you had 
stolen my syringe, but why did you do it ? 
Why did you not reveal yourself to me 
before? You are, of course, under the 
Queen's orders ? " 

" I am," I answered, " and her orders to 
me now are to take Lord Kairn home to 
England overland to-morrow morning." 

"Very well. Everything is finished — he 
will die in one month." 

" From Mediterranean fever ? But it is not 
necessarily fatal," I continued. 

"That is true. It is not always fatal 
acquired in the ordinary way, but by our 
methods it is so." 

" Then you have administered more of the 
micro-organisms since leaving Malta ? " 

" Yes ; I had another syringe in my case, 
and now nothing can save him. The fever 
will commence in six days from now." 

He paused for a moment or two. 

" It is very odd," he went on, "that I should 
have had no communication. I cannot under- 
stand it. " A sudden flash of suspicion shot 
across his dark face. My heart sank as I saw 
it. It passed, however, the next instant ; the 
man's words were courteous and quiet. 

" I of course accede to your proposition," 
he said: "everything is quite safe. This 
that I have done can never by any possibility 
be discovered. Madame is invincible. Have 
you yet seen Lord Kairn ? " 

"Yes, and I have told him to be prepared 
to accompany me home to-morrow." 

"Very well." 

Dr. Fietta walked across the room, 
unlocked the door and threw it open. 

" Your plans will suit me admirably," he 
continued. " I shall stay on here for a few 
days more, as I have some private business 
to transact. To-night I shall sleep in peace. 
Your shadow has been haunting me for the 
last three days," 

Original from 


9 6 



I went from Fietta's room to the boy's. He 
was wide awake and started up when he saw 

44 1 have arranged everything, Cecil," I said, 
"and you are my charge now, I mean to 
take you to my room to sleep." 

44 Oh," he answered, u I am glad. Perhaps 
I shall sleep better in your room* I am not 
afraid of you — I love you." His eyes, bright 
with affection, looked into mine, I lifted 
him into my arms, wrapped his dressing-gown 
over his shoulders, and conveyed him through 
the folding-doors, down the corridor, into 
the room I had secured for myself There 
were two beds in the room, and I placed him 
in one. 

4 * I am so happy," he said, U I love you so 
much. Will you take me to Vesuvius in the 
morning, and then home in the evening? " 

"1 will see about that. Now go to sleep," 
I answered. 

He dosed his eyes with a sigh of pleasure. 
In ten minutes he was sound asleep. I was 
standing by him when there came a knock at 
the door. I went to open it. A waiter 
stood without. He held a salver in his 
hand* It contained a letter, also a sheet of 
paper and an envelope stamped with the 
name of the hotel, 

" From the doctor, to be delivered to the 

by Google 

signor immediately," was the 
laconic remark. 

Still standing in the door- 
way, I took the letter from 
the tray, opened it, and read 
the following words : — 

"You have removed the 
boy, and that action arouses 
my mistrust, I doubt your 
having received any com- 
munication from madame. If 
you wish me to believe that 
you are a bona -fide member 
of the brotherhood, return 
the boy to his own sleeping* 
room immediately.'' 

I took a pencil out of my 
pocket and hastily wrote a 
few words on the sheet cf 
p:iper, which had been sent 
for the purpose : — 

" I retain the boy. You 
are welcome to draw your 
own conclusions." 

Folding up the paper 1 
slipped it into the envelope, 
and wetting the gum with my 
tongue, fastened it together, 
and handed it to the waiter, 
who withdrew. I re-entered my room and 
locked the door. To keep the boy was im- 
perative, but there was little doubt that Fietta 
would now telegraph to Mrne. Koluchy (the 
telegraphic office being open day and night) 
and find out the trick I was playing upon him. 
I considered whether I might not remove the 
boy there and then to another hotel, but 
decided that such a step would be useless* 
Once the emissaries of the Brotherhood were 
put upon my track, the case for the child 
and myself would be all but hopeless. 

There was likely to be little sleep for me 
that night. I paced up and down my lofty 
room. My thoughts were keen and busy. 
After a time, however, a strange confusion 
seized me. One moment 1 thought of the 
child, the next of Mrne. Koluchy, and then 
again 1 found myself pondering some abstruse 
and comparatively unimportant point in 
science, which I was perfecting at home, I 
shook myself free of these thoughts, to walk 
about again, to pause by the bedside of the 
child, to listen to his quiet breathing. 

Perfect peace reigned over his little face* 
He had resigned himself to me, his terrors 
were things of the past, and he was absolutely 
happy. Then once again that queer confusion 
of brain returned. I wondered what I was 
doing, and why I was anxious about the boy* 
Original from 



Finally I sank upon the bed at the farther 
end of the room, for my limbs were tired 
and weighted with a heavy oppression. I 
would rest for a moment, but nothing would 
induce me to close my eyes. So I thought, 
and flung myself back on my pillow. But 
the next instant all present things were 
forgotten in dreamless and heavy slumber. 

I awoke long hours afterwards, to find the 
sunshine flooding the room — the window 
which led on to the balcony wide open, and 
Cecils bed empty. I sprang up with a cry ; 
memory returned with a flash. What had 
happened? Had Fietta managed to get in 
by means of the window ? I had noticed 
the balcony outside the window, on the 
previous night. The balcony of the next 
room was but a few feet distant from mine. 
It would be easy for anyone to enter there, 
spring from one balcony to the other, and so 
obtain access to my room. Doubtless this 
had been done. Why had I slept ? I had 
firmly resolved to stay awake all night. In 
an instant I had found the solution. Fietta's 
letter had been a trap. The envelope which 
he sent me contained poison on the gum. I 
had licked it, and so received the fatal 
soporific. My heart beat wildly. I knew I 
had not an instant to lose. With hasty 
strides I went into Fietta's sitting-room : 
there was no one there ; into his bedroom, 
the door of which was open : it was also 
empty. I rushed into the hall. 

"The gentleman and the little boy went 
out about half an hour ago," said the con- 
cierge, in answer to my inquiries. "They 
have gone to Vesuvius— a fine day for the 
trip." The man smiled as he spoke. 

My heart almost stopped. 

" How did they go? " I asked. 

"A carriage, two horses — best way to go." 

In a second I was out in the Piazza del 
Municipio. Hastily selecting a pair-horse 
carriage out of the group of importunate 
drivers, I jumped in. 

"Vesuvius," I shouted, "as hard as you 
can go." 

The man began to bargain. I thrust a 
roll of paper -money into his hand. On 
receiving it he waited no longer, and we 
were soon dashing at a furious speed along 
the crowded, ill-paved streets, scattering the 
pedestrians as we went. Down the Via 
Roma, and out on to the Santa Lucia Quay, 
away and away through endless labyrinths of 
noisome, narrow streets, till at length we got 
out into the more open country, at the base 
of the burning mountain. Should I be in 
time to prevent the catastrophe which I 

*,.„.-„ Google 

dreaded ? For I had been up that mountain 
before, and knew well the horrible danger at 
the crater's mouth — a slip, a push, and one 
would never be seen again. 

The ascent began, and the exhausted horses 
were beginning to fail. I leapt out, and giving 
the driver a sum which I did not wait to 
count, ran up the winding road of cinders 
and pumice, that curves round beneath the 
observatory. My breath had failed me, and 
my heart was beating so hard that I could 
scarcely speak, when I reached the station 
where one takes ponies to go over the new, 
rough lava. In answer to my inquiries, 
Cook's agent told me that Fietta and Cecil 
had gone on not a quarter of an hour ago. 

I shouted my orders, and flinging money 
right and left, I soon obtained a fleet pony, 
and was galloping recklessly over the broken 
lava. Throwing the reins over the pony's 
head I presently jumped off, and ran up the 
little, narrow path to the funicular wire-laid 
railway, that takes passengers up the steep 
cone to the crater. 

"Just gone on, sir," said a Cook's official, 
in answer to my question. 

"But I must follow at once," I said, 
excitedly, hurrying towards the little shed. 

The man stopped me. 

" We don't take single passengers," he 

" I will, and must, go alone," I said. " I'll 
buy the car, and the railway, and you, and 
the mountain, if necessary, but go I will. 
How much do you want to take me alone?" 

" One hundred francs," he answered, 
impertinently, little thinking that I would 
agree to the bargain. 

" Done ! " I replied. 

In astonishment he counted out the notes 
which I handed to him, and hurried at once 
into the shed. Here he rang an electric bell 
to have the car at the top started back, and 
getting into the empty car, I began to ascend 
up, and up, and up. Soon I passed the empty 
car returning. How slowly we moved ! My 
mouth was parched and dry, and I was in a 
fever of excitement. The smoke from the 
crater was close above me in great wreaths. 
At last we reached the top. I leapt out, and 
without waiting for a guide, made my way 
past, and rushed up the active cone, slipping 
in the shifting, loose, gritty soil. When I 
reached the top a gale was blowing, and the 
scenery below, with the Bay and Naples and 
Sorrento, lay before me, the most magnificent 
panorama in the world. I had no time to 
glance at it, but hurried forward, past crags 
of hot rock, from which steam and sulphur 

- 1 l •_! 1 1 l >.l l I I ■_' I 1 1 


9 8 


were escaping. The wind was taking the 
huge volumes of smoke over to the farther 
side of the crater, and I could just catch 
sight of two figures as the smoke cleared for 
a moment. The figures were those of Fietta 
and the hoy. They were evidently making a 
detour of the crater, and had just entered the 
smoke. I heard a guide behind shout some- 
thing to me in Italian, but I took no notice, 
and [flunged at once into the blinding, 
suffocating smoke that came belching forth 
from the crater. 

I was now close behind Fietta and the 
boy. They held their handkerchiefs up 


to their faces to keep off the choking, 
sulphurous fumes, and had evidently not 
seen me. Their guide was ahead of them, 
Fietta was walking slowly; he was farthest 
away from the crater's mouth. The boy's 
hand was within his; the boy was nearest 
to the yawning gulf. A hot and choking 
blast of smoke blinded me for a moment, 
and hid the pair Irom view; the next instant 
it passed. I saw Fietta suddenly turn, seize 
the boy, and push him towards the edge. 
Through the rumbling thunder that came 
from below I heard a sharp cry of terror, 
and bounding forward I just caught the lad 

as he reeled, and 
hurled him away 
into safety. 

With a hoarse 
yell of baffled 
rage, Fietta dashed 
through the smoke 
and flung himself 
upon me, I moved 
nimbly aside, and 
the doctor, carried 
on by the impetus 
of his rush, missed 
his footing in the 
crumbling ashes 
and fell headlong 
down through the 
reeking smoke and 
steam into the 
fathomless, seeth- 
ing caldron below. 
What followed 
may be told in a 
few words. That 
evening I sailed for 
Malta with the boy. 
Dr. Benson ad- 
ministered the anti- 
toxin in time, and 
the child's life was 
saved. Within a 
fortnight I brought 
him back to his 

It was reported 
that Dr. Fietta had 
gone mad at the 
edge of the crater, 
and in an excess 
of maniacal fury, 
had first tried to 
destroy the boy, 
and then flung 
himself in. I kept 
my secret* 

by Google 

Original from 

Marvels in Match-boxes. 

By S. I* Neville-Dixon, 

HESE pages are an eloquent 
testimony to the extraordinary 
skill and ingenuity of artisans 
and others in the Midland 
districts. Two or three years 
ago a particularly enterprising 
firm of match -manufacturers, Messrs. S. I. 
Moreland and Sons, of Gloucester and 
Birmingham, hit upon the excellent idea of 
getting up public competitions on entirely 
original lines. Of course, the firm's primary 
motive was the sale and general advertise- 
ment of their wares ; but they also considered 
how they should best tap the wonderful fund 
of originality which they knew the average 
British workman does possess, no matter what 
his traducers say, 

It was at length resolved that the compe- 
tition should take the form of model-making — 
" the greatest novelty of any sort that can be 
made with not less than 1,000 of our match- 
boxes/ 3 The conditions were widely advertised 
in Birmingham and its environs. Competent 
judges — architects, chiefly — were appointed. 
The first prize was ^"50, the second ^25, 
third ^£io, and then came three other 
prizes of ^5 each. In sub- 
sequent competitions, how- 
ever, the amounts were 
slightly varied, but in all 
cases the prize - money 
aggregated ,£100, Models 
were to be sent carriage 
paid to Messrs. Moreland 
and Rons' Birmingham 
depot, 155, Great Charles 
Street, and those winning 
a prize became the absolute 
property of the firm. I.ater 
on Messrs. Moreland hired 
a shop in Birmingham for 
the express purpose of 
exhibiting to the public the 
prize-winntng models. 

In this article, then, 
will be found a repre- 
sentative collection of 
photographs of these 
" marvels in match-boxes/' 
In some cases the model 
occupied the spare time of 

its creator for six months or more ; and the 
effect of the whole was heightened by clock- 
work arrangements and similar contrivances* 

It is to Messrs* Morelands' Birmingham 
manager, Mr. George Blakely, that w T e are 
indebted for most of the photographs. 

The wonderful piano seen in the first 
photograph is actually full size, being 5ft in 
height, and constructed entirely of match- 
boxes, which, according to the rules of the com- 
petition, must have contained Messrs, More- 
lands' wares. The instrument was awarded 
first prize in the third competition, so 
that it may be said to have fetched the 
price of a real cottage piano. The judges 
were Messrs. Gately and Parsons, well-known 
architects in Birmingham. The maker of 
the piano was Mr. G. W. Roberts, of 2 
YVenman Street, Birmingham, Mr Roberts 
served as tuner for many years with the well- 
known house of Broadwood, so that a piano 
suggested itself naturally to him. He tells 
me that he used upwards of 3,200 ordinary 
match-boxes, and 576 boxes that had con- 
tained small wax -vestas. The only other 
thing he used was 51b* of glue. 

by Google 

hi on El. Of A PULL-S^E PI4NQ. 

Original from 




Originality seems to nin in the Roberts 
family, for we next show a marvellous model 
of the great Laxey Wheel, in the Isle of 
Man, made by Miss L W, Robert*, sister to 
the designer of the piano, "The Laxey 
Wheel," writes Mr. Roberts, "was 6ft- in 
length and 4ft high. It took n little less 
than six months to make, and used up about 
3,000 match-boxes. " 

In some cases more than one competitor 
took the same original for his model For 
instance, the I^ixey W ? heel was also adopted 
by Mr. James Shaw, of 56, Dickinson Street, 
Nottingham. Mr. Shaw's model, which won 
the first prize, was no less than 6ft + 7)2 in. in 
height, 2ft. in depth, and Sft. in length. It 
contained 4*5co boxes, and took five months 
to complete, The wheel itself was 5ft 6in. 
in diameter, and went by clockwork. Another 
competitor, Mr. Lewis Sheldon, of 49, 

Foundry Road, 
Winson Green, 
Birmingham, con- 
structed a double- 
masted turret ship- 
of-war, 8ft. 3m. 
long. The com- 
pleteness of this 
model was aston- 
ishing ; the ship 
carried fifteen guns 
(all made out of 
match-boxes), and 
there were six life- 

The next two 
models shown are 
the work of Mr. F. 
Marshall, of 13, 
Manor Avenue, 
Sneinton, Notting- 
ham. The first of 
Mr. Marshall's 
models depicted 
gained the third 
prize in the second competition. It is a very 
faithful reproduction of the Forth Bridge, and 
is, of course, made entirely out of match-boxes. 
The height of the model is ift ioin., the width 
i2in., and the length no less than reft. 6in. 
The model contained about 3,000 boxes. I 
may here repeat the statement, that accord- 
ing to the rules governing the competitions 
models were to contain at hast 1,000 boxes. 
•'Other than match-boxes," writes Mr. 
Marshall, "no material whatever is used in 
the construction of the bridge- not even in 
the stays. When completed it stood the test 
of 42IU weight in the centre of either arch. 
I never saw the original bridge, but got an 
idea of it from a lithograph in a railway guide. 
The model contains 241 stays and twelve 
principal pillars. Seven rows of matchboxes 
form the roadway over the bridge, and nn 
this roadway are laid the sleepers and rails." 

the POKTN nrcmcEf. 

by Google 

Original from 




Mr, Marshall's second model is what is 
known as an Eiffel bicycle. When complete, 
this model was in full working order. It 
contains t,ioo match-boxes, and stands a 
little more than 6ft in height. The diamond 
stays are two boxes 
thick, The driving 
chain is 9ft, long, and 
was nude from the 
sides of the match- 
box-drawers glued on 
to tape. The wheels 
are 24m. in diameter. 
Another model of 
Mr. Marshall's was 
a reproduction of the 
lighthouse near New 
Brighton. This 
model was fitted with 
a revolving lantern, 
and the whole con- 
tained 2,900 match- 

The next model 
reproduced is a 
highly elaborate affair, 
made by Mr. Grabh, 
of G rend on Terrace, 
Atherstone. This is 
supposed to represent 
Nelson's famous ship 
Victory passing a large 
lighthouse. As will 

be seen, the ship, the 
lighthouse* and the 
entire background* with 
its wings, are all com- 
posed of match-boxes. 
Working three hours a 
night, Mr. Grubb 
finished his model in 
five months. The ship 
is 3ft. 6 in. long; and 
the lighthouse, 5ft 2 in. 
high, and nearly 2ft, 
square. To build a 
circular lighthouse, with 
the awkward material 
at his disposal, was a 
little beyond Mr. Grubb. 
The designer, it should 
be said, is very well ac- 
quainted with nautical 
matters, having served 
as steward for some 
years on board a little 
vessel of 400 tons. 
Thus it will be seen 
that each competitor 
prudently followed his own bent 

The next match-box model shown is an 
even more elaborate and ambitious original 
design, worked out by Mr. Joseph Bray, of 
Coleshill Street, Atherstone. Mr, Bray 


by Google 

Original from 




writes as follows : " I am sending you a 
photograph of my model of a tower with 
elevated circular railway, made with 1,120 
empty match-boxes. This was entered in 
Messrs* Morel an els' competition held last 
January, and gained the fourth prize of 
^10, The model was 36111. long, 39m, 
high, and 24m. wide. The boxes were 
put together with glue, and the model was 
very firm and substantial. I worked upon it 
at night after I had finished my day's work. 
You will see that even the foundation of the 
platform is made of match boxes. The 
bottom of the tower is supposed to contain 
shops ; and it has four entrances and sixteen 
windows. The railway track around the 
tower was laid with rails and sleepers, and a 
clockwork train was run upon it at intervals 
The platform for the station is on the right- 
hand side of the model, where I also built a 
booking-office and signal-box with levers. Oft 
the left-hand side are a promenade, a band- 
stand, and a refreshment -room. Railway- 
station, promenade, etc., were all w + orked 
round with brass wire, so as to represent rail- 
ings, and the whole model had small lamps 
for electric lights," 

The next match - box model to be 
shown is one representing the stately old 
red-brick gateway of St Jameses Palace, as 
viewed from St. James's Street. You will 
see from the label that it gained the fourth 
prize of ^10. Jt is the wprlt of Mr. J. Hi 

Round, of Holly 
Hall, Dudley. 

Mr. Round writes 
to say that his 
model contains 
2,380 common 
match-boxes and 
620 wax - vesta 
boxes. He took 
particular note of 
the time occupied 
in its construction 
— io6 hours. From 
the ground to the 
top of the flag on 
the tower measured 
no less than 6ft. 4111. 
The clock was a 
very real one, work- 
ing twenty-four 
hours with one 
winding. The dial 
was Sin. in diameter. 
The very dial 
figures and hands 
were made of parts 
of the inevitable match-box. There was a 
motto surrounded by flowers, " Long live the 






Queen," It only remains to be said that both 
the letters and flowers were made from bits 
of match-box or the paper covering thereon. 

Yet another of these wonderful little 
models. This design is an ideal one t and is 
supposed to represent a desirable " Home 
for Old Soldiers and Sailors/' Upwards of 
3,000 match -boxes were used in the con- 
struction of this model* and it was made in 
its designer's spare time after he had worked 
ten hours a day at his own occupation. This 
model is the work of Mr* Evan H< Jordan, 
of Oakamoor Mills, near Cheadle, Staffs, 
Mr. Jordan says, "It took me about a 
thousand hours ; the only things I used were 
an old razor and a pot of glue." 

Another fancy design was sent in by Mr, 
J. Ifeavesley, of Nottingham, and it gained 
the second prize of ^20. This was supposed 
to represent, on a small but perfectly accurate 
scale, Messrs. Morelands* new premises* 
The model contained 6,000 empty match- 
boxes, the sand-papered edges of the boxes 
themselves forming the stone dressings of 
the building. Other striking instances ol 
ingenuity were that the front of the boxes 
went to make the red brick facade; whilst 
the tiling on the roof was composed of the 
blue and amber of the inside* of the boxes 
This model was nearly 6ft. square. 

A particularly good and accurate repre- 


sentation of the 
Great Wheel at 
Earl's Court is 
next reproduced. 
This model gained 
a first prize of j£$0* 
Ml\ S, Jennings, 
of 32, Richmond 
Street, Walsall, was 
the designer. The 
wheel contains 
z>i 10 match-boxes, 
every one of which 
had to be cut, 
carved, and dove- 
tailed into shape. 
The wheel has 
twenty - four cars, 
and each car has 
eight windows 
made out of mica. 
By a clockwork 
arrangement the 
wheel will work for 
fifteen minutes 
after being wound 
up. The model is 
4ft. high ; and Mr, 
Jennings tells me that no fewer than 500 of 
his neighbours came to see it at his house. 


Original from 

Insect Strength. 

Written and Illustrated uy James Scott. 

HAT insects generally are pos- 
sessed of tremendous strength 
is a fact which has often been 
expressed in odd newspaper 
paragraphs; but I do not re- 
member ever seeing the subject 
treated pictorially : hence the present illus- 
trated article is offered to the reader, 

I intended to utilise three familiar kinds of 
insects for the purpose of experiment in this 
connection, viz. : a house-fly, an earwig, and 
a house-spider ; but although I succeeded in 
harnessing one of the latter species, I hesi- 
tated about applying him to any hard work, 
for the truth is that his waist {which would 
have been subject to the strain) is so slender 
that it would probably have broken and 
divided him into two pieces, and this sort 
of cruelty I wished to avoid. So I contented 
myself with the house-fly and the earwig, 
whose efforts will, I think, astonish the 

As a draught animal I did not find the 
house fly \\\ all noteworthy- -he preferred to 
use his wings instead of his legs. That these 
latter appendages are, however, endowed 
with enormous power may be 
understood by a reference to the 

I caught a fly who, for a cer- 
tainty, must have stolen my 
sugar and other delicacies at 
some time or other, and, as 
some recompense for my loss in 
that direction, I persuaded him 
to "try his strength/' He was 
not allowed to do so to his utmost 
capacity, but to perform what 
were comparatively easy tests, 

My table was strewn with 
various squares of rather stout 
blue paper, such as incloses 
drawing-cards in stationers' shops. 
Each square differed in dimen- 
sions from the remainder, and 
the scavenger, held by his wings, 
was permitted to grasp with his 
daws and pads any piece that 
he chose, It was a very amusing 
sight, for when hq raised a square 

he turned it about in all directions- Of 
course, he was endeavouring to walk over it, 
but only succeeded in making the paper 
travel beneath him, which perhaps pleased 
him just as well as though his desire had 
been fulfilled. 

The square of paper which tested his 
strength the most fairly, being neither too 
easy to manipulate nor too difficult to support 
without straining his legs, was about twenty- 
five times larger in area than the length of his 
own body. Fig. i will convey some idea of its 
comparative size. I calculate that for a man 
jft, in height to equal this feat it would be 
necessary Tor him to lift an exceedingly stout 
and stiff carpet capable of completely cover* 
ing a room 25ft, (over 8yds*) square. As a 
matter of fact, the fly lifted the paper by the 
aid of his feet alone, and did not grasp it by 
encircling it with his legs. As I before said, 
he also caused the substance to undergo 
various evolutions ■ and whether the feat be 
regarded as a test of leg strength or a test of 
the glueing power of the pads which enable 
him to promenade our ceilings, it still remains 
a wonderful performance. 

by Google 

Original from 



Perhaps Fig. 2 will convey a better notion 
of the fly's strength. It must be remem- 
bered that it was an entirely optional matter 
for the fly to release his hold of the 
material when he became tired or obstinate, 
or in the event of the strain on his wing con- 
nections becoming at all painful. 

He easily lifted an ordinary unused safety 
match, seven times longer than himself. The 
fly in the illustration is rather large in pro 
portion to the piece of wood he is supporting ; 
so it will be seen that I have not exaggerated 
my subject. Comparatively speaking, the match 
would represent to the average man a balk 
of timber about 35ft, long, and of a thick- 
ness almost identical with that of his own 
body. He would consider it an abnormal 
feat of strength, I believe, were he powerful 
enough to carry a beam conforming to these 
dimensions under one arm, using the fellow- 
limb to facilitate the task. Naturally, 
there cannot be any strictly accurate com- 
parison, on account of the difference in 
structure between flies and men ; but my 
playful remarks have been substantiated, as 
ft ell as possible, by very careful observation. 
I wish to impress upon the reader the fact 
that the insect could lift two or more matches 
when they were tied together; but as I 
desired to show ordinary capabilities, and not 
Sandowian performances, 1 depict but one 
match as being manipulated. The man in 
frig. 3 is carrying a length of timber five 
times that of his own length, to conform to 
Fig. 2, But it must be remembered that the 

Vol ft*. -14. 

H(Jh 3. 

match was actually seven times longer than 
the fly, 

For the exhibition of the third stage of 
strength I selected a fresh fly, and after 
much struggling with the energetic legs I 
managed to tie a piece of cotton to one of 
them (Fig. 4). It is necessary to point out, 
in order to defend myself against possible 
charges of cruelty, that a fly's limbs are 
covered with tremendously long bristles, to 
be compared to pitchfork prongs issuing from 
a human arm or leg. These prevent a 
loosely-tied loop from slipping off the leg, A 
man fastens his collar 
round his neck much 
tighter than I attached 
the " rope n to the fly. 
Well, the creature 
and the cotton, the 
latter a foot in length, 
were deposited upon 
the table* It then put 
its wings into vigorous 
fiction, but quite failed 
to raise itself. So I 
cut a portion of the 
cotton away- Still 
there was no appre- 
ciable upward motion, 
and I therefore con- 
tinued to shorten the 
material. Presently he 
showed signs of satis- 
faction, but it was not 
until the " rope TF had 
been curtailed to a 
lengLh of about twelve 
times that of the fly's 
body that it gracefully 
soared aloft. The 
weight was just suffi- 
cient to keep the ferial 
dwarf in sight — an 
impossible matter 
under circumstances *"*■ 4- 

where the fly has 
entire freedom of movement. 

Now, in comparison, the cotton would be to 
a sailor (supposing him to be 5ft in height) a 
length of cable much thicker than his thigh, 
and 60ft long. I hazard the opinion that 
- - he would encounter ■ ex- 
treme difficulty in striving 
merely to lift so immense 
a coil, without being called 
upon to fly through the 
air with it. 

I will tell the reader 
how I arrived at the 

by Google 

Original from 



PiC. 5. 

proper proportion of the coil shown in 
Fig. 5, in order that he may follow my 
remarks* The sailor is 5ft* in height. I drew 
circles within circles according to the follow- 
ing dimensions, dividing the sailor into five 
pieces : — 

One circle was two- fifths of the sailor, making 6ft. circumference 
,. T , thixe-nTiliN >, „ gft. 

M „ four-fifths p , +l i2fi. * N 

„ fS five-fifths (0 „ rt 15ft, ,, 

Total. -,.., 6ofT. 

The circles were connected to form a con- 
tinuous coil If the weight of the rot ton 
carried be com- 
pared with such a 
coil's weight, the 
sailor would have 
the hardest task as 
a mere lifter ; but 
we must remember 
that the fly was 
careering through 
space with his 

I have thought it 
more convenient 
for the purpose of 
rendering the pre- 
vious comparisons 
effective, to give 
them in area ; but the weight of the sub- 
stances concerned is equally surprising. I 
made a small pair of scales, using as weights 
little pieces of cardboard, each cut to balance 
a fly or an earwig as required 

The piece of paper shown in Hg. i was 
about ten times heavier than the fly which 
supported it ; the match weighed four times 
as much as the fly ; and the cotton, half a fly* 

For tremendous muscular power however, 
the beetle tribe arc far in advance of other 
insects. As I wished my illustrations to be 
reproduced as nearly life-size as possible, so 
that a true conception of the experiments 
would be formed, I selected a few earwigs — - 
black bee ties were too large. It may form 
amusing reading to be told of some facts 
in connection with one of my beasts of 
burden, I held him down by means of 
a strip of paper covering his back, the 
ends being pinned to the table. Then I 
encircled his horny body with a piece 
of cotton ; but before I could manage to 
satisfy my desire he had wriggled him- 
self free. Several times I employed this 
method ; and several times I failed to 
harness him projjerly. I could not very 
well hold him in my fingers and secure him 
to the reins simultaneously ; nor could I find 

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anyone possessing sufficient courage to act as 
a substitute —although it is really abhorrence 
and not want of nerve which deters people 
from handling insects* After many vain 
endeavours I threw the cotton on to the table 
in despair, and allowed the earwig to do as he 
liked. It chanced that the cotton fell in the 
form of a loop, and I was considerably 
diverted by the subsequent antics of the 
curious insect When within half an inch of 
the cotton it suddenly stopped, erected its 
nippers menacingly, and turned mil, running 
hurriedly in the opposite direction, only 
to repeat its stoppage, and retreat when 
within half an inch distance of another 
portion of the cotton* After indulging 
for several minutes in this eccentric occupa- 
tion, it began gyrating around itself some- 
where near the middle of the loop, 
continually raising the back half of its body, 
and apparently trying to nip its own neck* 
It appeared to be quite frantic, and I have 
no doubt that it regarded the cotton as a 
gigantic snake trying to devour it After 
feeding it 1 again strove to harness it t and 
this time succeeded in doing so. It slowly 
accustomed itself to the cotton — became 
"' broke n-in" 'as it were; and then 1 pro- 
ceeds! with the experiments. 

I had previously made a cart ltn. long and 
-^in. wide, formed with a piece of card- 
board, having its sides bent down, between 
which two pieces of lead-pencil {after the 
lead had been removed therefrom) were 
pivoted by means of a couple of needles. 
To this conveyance I attached the farther 
end of the cotton connected to the earwig, 
and then patiently awaited the service of 
the insect* After having fully investigated 
the peculiar " snake " which encircled it, 
it showed signs of vigour, and made 
off at what I suppose must be called 
a trot, dragging the cart quite easily 
behind it. Then a match was loaded upon 
the waggon, making apparently but little 
difference to the earwig. Matches were 
successively added until the load comprised 
an accumulation of eight (Fig. 6). At this 
point the insect showed signs of a faint 
struggle, such as a horse does when slipping 
about the roadway with a somewhat heavy 

Although he managed to propel a heavier 
load than this, it would be equivalent to 
overwork if he dragged more than eight 

I placed the eight matches upon the 
scales, and found that their combined 
weight was twenty -four times that of the 
insect, liach piece of timber was four 

Original from 




FIG. 6. 

times longer than the carrier, making in 
all a load of wood thirty-two times longer 
than the earwig. A horse is thicker in 
depth than breadth ; whereas an earwig's 
breadth exceeds that of its depth. In length 
{proportionately) there exists little noticeable 
difference ; so that, for the purpose of de- 
scription, it may be assumed that, except for 
the difference in the number of legs, a horse 
corresponds in proportions to an earwig. I 
have pictorially represented in Fig. 7 a front 
view of a horse laden with pieces of timber, 
each of the comparative length of a match. 
There would be eight of these huge beams ; 

by a repast. As 
for the earwig's 
extraordinary bur- 
den, a glance at 
Fig, 9 will explain 
what that means. 

I inclined a 
ni e d i u m - s i z ed 
slate by inserting 
a pencil between one of its ends and the 
table, and then let the earwig loose upon it, 
fettered to the waggon, which he literally 
"played" with. Then I loaded it with an 1894 
penny, "Ah!" I thought, "that will stop you." 
But, no : being on the down -hill path it 
managed, with much difficulty I must 
acknowledge, to drag even that proper- 
tionately tremendous burden. In saying 

FlU. 7. 

and I think it may be fairly doubted whether 
an ordinary horse (or even a pair of horses) 
would be endowed with sufficient strength to 
triable it to shift the load, without expecting 
the animal to drag it with tolerable ease. 

If ,the timber were cut up into quarter 
lengths, to match the width of the cart, an 
exceedingly long vehicle would be required 
for its support, and its comparative appear- 
ance would resemble that portrayed in Fig. 8, 
Eight matches were an ordinary load to the 
untrained earwig, who naturally disfavoured 
the proceedings, and was not aware, as a 
horse is, that its toiling was to be followed 

fig, a. 

I".'., w- 

that the waggon remained still and did 
not roll downwards when the earwig stopped, 
it is implied that the insect was not very 
advantageously assisted in his work, for 
the u hill" was not steep enough for the 
cart to travel along by its own weight. 
The exact inclination is shown in Fig. io, 
wherein a horse is depicted carrying a load of 
timber of equal comparative 
weight, I am enabled to 
furnish this drawing by 
having ascertained the 
number of matches neces- 
sary to properly balance an 
1894 penny, which I found 
to be eighty -three. As a 
match is four times kmxer 
than an earwig, we must 

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divide our timber into lengths equal to thai of 
a horse, which 1 am supposing to be propor- 
tionate in bulk and length, as a member of the 
larger animal world, to what the earwig is as 
a creature of the insect world. An easy 
calculation provides us with the astounding 
fact that quite 330 (I use round numbers) 
solid pieces of timber, each 
as long and thick as him- 
self, will be needed if he 
were required to carry a 
proportionate load to that 

FIG- 11. 

carried by the earwig on a sloping roadway 
resembling, say, Fleet Street, 

Another view of the matter is equally sur- 
prising, and will serve to give sonic idea of 
this exceedingly powerful performance if we 
remember that one or two horses con- 
stitute a load for another horse, as may 
often be observed in the streets when 
a knacker's cart passes by. The penny 
is equal to no fewer than 250 
earwigs : therefore, a horse, to 
exhibit the same power of trac- 
tion on the same gradient, 
would need to 
carry, not two, but 
250 other horses 
in this way. 

Hitherto 1 have 
supposed both the 
carts used by the 
horse and the ear- 
wig to be propor- 
tionate in weight, 
but, as a matter 

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of fact, the earwig should be accorded a 
more praiseworthy triumph in this direction. 
The cart ol cardboard, having solid wheels 
of black lead pencil, weighed forty-six times 
more than himself— a wonderful load in itself* 
The last feat which I invited my precious 
insect to favour me with is shown in Fig, 1 1, 
I held him aloft and allowed him to select 
bis own strip of thick blue paper with which 
to perforin. There was no compulsion in the 
matter- he could cither take the paper or 
Whether he was proud of his 
strength, I do not 
kntiw ; but he vigor- 
ously tugged at a 
strip twenty times 
longer than himself, 
and quite as broad. 
Special attention is 
directed to the fact 
that he employed but two feet in the process* 
Unlike his companion, the house-fly, he 
refused to gyrate his load, but grimly held it 
poised in a tenacious grip* 

I weighed the paper and found it equal 
to twelve times his own weight. 1 
have pirtnnallv represented a similar 
task, weight - for - weight, being accom- 
plished by a man* In Fig. 12 arc 
shown a dozen men being 
upheld by another. The 
rope which would be neces- 
sary to bind one to another 
for the purpose 
of so risky (and, 
of course, im- 
possible) an 
experiment need 
not be counted, 
for the earwig 
lifted heavier 
pieces of paper 
than that re- 
ferred to* 

Original from 

&£*& waft 


From the French of Daniel Riche. 

OLITARY, by the sea-short 1 , 
in a cottage which the rough 
winds from across the ocean 
shook like a worn-out and 
abandoned ship, lived the 
aunt of Belle Yvonne j who 
was beautiful as a raring day 3 with the gold- 
glint of her hair, her eyes as blue as the 
cloudless sky, and her skin as fair as the hue 
of the lilies growing by the margin of the 

But though she was beautiful enough to 
surprise a King* Yvonne was very unhappy. 
Her old witch of an aunt, who lived by theft 
and the spoils of wrecked mariners gathered 
from the shore, beat her much more often 
than complimented her on her good looks. 

The little one never complained, however. 
Merely to live was a delight to her, and 
while listening to the songs of the birds on 
the heath, and breathing the sweet scent of 
the furze-flower, she forgot all the ill-treat- 
ment of which she was the daily victim. 


Now, one afternoon, when the old woman 
had sent Yvonne to gather mussels on the 
shore, a handsome carriage, drawn by six 
white horses, stopped aL the cottage door. 

All the people of the village followed it, 
wonderingly, expecting that some charming 
Prince would alight from it. But to their 
j^reat astonishment the person who descended 
was only a little man — not taller than a distaff 
— with a head as big as a lion's, and a great 
black beard, which he wore plaited down to 
his waist, round which it was coiled like a 

The dwarf was dressed in silk, satin, and 
gold ; rings and jewels sparkled on all hts 
fingers, and the knob of his cane was com- 
posed of a single diamond. 

He entered the miserable cottage, and the 
old woman was so overcome by the sight of 
him that she threw herself upon her knees 
before him in sign of humility and deference. 

1( Rise, woman/' said the dwarf, in a thin 
little voice, like the tone of a flageolet ; ** I 
have to speak with you on a matter of 
importance/ 1 

As she was rising, in obedience to his 
command, she received full in the nose a 
purs^ filled with gold pieces ; but t far from 
complaining, her face brightened into a 
hideous smile, and she asked, humbly j— 

"What can I do to satisfy you, my lord?" 

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Original from 



"I have noticed," he replied, "your 
niece, Yvonne, agile as a young goat, flitting 
about the rocks : she is so beautiful that I 
have come to ask for her hand." 

The old woman clapped her legs three times 
with her hands, which with her was a sign 
of utter stupefaction. 

"You, a rich lord, who have a carriage 
drawn by six white horses, and so many 
purses full of gold pieces that you throw 
them to old women — you wish to marry 
my niece?" 

" It is my dearest wish, supposing she will 

" She refuse such an honour?" squeaked 
the old woman ; " I would eat her liver if 
she dare ! " 

From a distance Yvonne perceived the 
assembled village, and though she could not 
imagine what it meant, the concourse of 
people about her aunt's door alarmed her so 
much that her rosy cheek became pale. 

She was obliged to go home, however. 
Slowly, and bending under the weight of the 
load of mussels she had gathered, she made 
her way towards the cottage. On seeing 
her approach the curious crowd opened to 
let her pass, crying : — 

" Here she is— here she is ! " 

The poor child felt her heart contract more 
and more. 

When she learned that her hand was sought 
by the dwarf, Belle Yvonne burst into tears. 
She would have preferred to remain un- 
married all her life than to wed such a frightful 
creature ! 

Seeing this, the old witch of an aunt begged 
his lordship to come again the next day, 
assuring him that her niece would then be 
ready to accept him ; and when next day the 
dwarf returned, Yvonne received him with 

What had the old woman said to bring 
about this change? Had she dazzled her 
with the prospect of riches, or terrorized her 
by force or threats ? 

No ; the old witch had caused her un- 
suspectingly to eat the brain of a mole 
strangled with three fern-stalks on a moonless 
night under a tree in which an owl was hoot- 
ing. This charm, the power of which lasted 
two days, made all men who met her sight 
appear beautiful as the heroes of a dream. 

She, therefore, received the dwarf with joy, 
and, on the second day, they were married, 
and he conducted her across wide lands and 
through dark forests to her new home. 

Once arrived in the great hall of her 
magnificent castle, lit by fpur torches held 

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in golden sockets, the charm came to an 
end, and poor Yvonne trembled with fear on 
hearing her dwarf-husband say to her : — 

" Madam, I know that I am neither big 
nor beautiful, in spite of my long beard ; 
and, as I am very jealous, I warn you that 
you will never be allowed to go beyond the 
limits of my domain. You will see no other 
man besides myself. With those exceptions, 
pray understand me, gentle wife, your every 
desire, every dream, shall be accomplished." 

Yvonne was at first greatly distressed by 
her complete solitude. Youth needs noise 
and movement for the expenditure of its 
excess of strength ; it needs, also, in provision 
for the days of its old age, to store up pic- 
tures, thoughts, and facts, to be revived when 
the time comes when activity is replaced by 
a quiet seat in an old arm-chair by the 

A sense of deadly weariness weighed upon 
her. But as the years made no change in 
her situation, she determined to make the 
best of it, by diverting herself by all means 
possible, in company with her servant, Marie- 
Jeanne, a good, rough girl, fond of laughing 
and chattering. 

At the close of an autumn day the two 
women were sitting at a window watching 
the setting sun, when some portions of a 
ballad, sung by two delicate and fluent voices, 
reached their ears. 

This song, thrilling the dusky calm, 
touched and delighted the two recluses, and, 
when the voices ceased, both leaned out of 
the window to get sight of the troubadours, 
but saw, under their balcony, only two dwarfs, 
so exactly like Yvonne's husband that they 
could not repress an exclamation of be- 
wildered astonishment. Like him, they were 
not taller than a distaff; like him, they had 
each a head as big as a lion's ; and, like him, 
each had a long plaited beard coiled round 
his waist. 

Recovered from their astonishment, the 
two young women were moved to laughter 
by this curious resemblance. Then Marie- 
Jeanne, who was always on the look-out for 
distraction for her mistress, proposed : — 

" Suppose we asked these two musicians 
to come and amuse us a little ? " 
• <4 How can you think of such a thing? 
What if my lord should return ?" 

-" Oh, never fear, madam ! He will not 
return till late in the evening ; you will have 
plenty of time to amuse yourself with their 

It did not need much pressing to induce 
the poor recluse to accept this tempting 

Original from 


offer, and, clapping her hands with pleasure, 
she permitted Marie-Jeanne to make a sign 
lo them to come up. 

In the course of a few moments the two 
dwarfs sang, accompanying themselves on 
the viol ; and the lady and the servant, who 
for so long had not had any amusement of 
any kind, danced till they were out of breath. 

. i — - 


Suddenly, while they were in the full en- 
joyment of their new-found pleasure, the 
sound of footsteps gritting on the gravel-walk 
in the court of honour fell upon their ears, 

* Heavens ! My husband ! ,h 

( " Your husband? iy 

" We are lost ! " 

u Don't give way to despair so quickly/' 
said Marie-Jeanne, who was not readily 
alarmed. li Chickens don't allow their necks 
to be wrung without screeching loud enough 
to make themselves heard. We'll find some 
way/ 1 

by Google 

" Do you think it possible ? " 
Marie-Jeanne did not answer this question, 
but hurried across the room to a large coffer, 
the lid of which she raised. 

"Quick ! hide yourselves in this chest," 
she said to the musicians, " The master is 
very spiteful, and if he discovers you in this 
house, he will be sure to cut you into little 
pieces and feed his dogs with them-" 

Terrified out of their wits, they instantly 
obeyed, and Marie-Jeanne shut down the lid, 
seaLrd herself upon it, and coolly set to work 

Not a moment too soon ; for she had hardly 
made a dozen loops when the little lord 
entered the room. The discomposure of his 

wife was at once 
observed by him. 

44 What is the 

matter with you, 

Belie Yvonne ? 

You are as pale as 

■* a corpse." 

" I, my lord I * 
she stammered ; 
u l am feeling a little 
weak this evening, 
that is all" 

"That comes of 
your not being 
allowed to go 
abroad, perhaps," 
said Marie-Jeanne, 

"The park is 
large, my beloved, 
it must suffice for your walks." Then, 
changing ihe subject to avoid a discussion 
which had many times been re-opened, 
he added : "I have mislaid here the 
little boy uf pistoles, of which I have need, 
and have returned in search of it* 1 

11 Search, search, my lord," said Belle 
Yvonne : adding, in a tone scarcely louder 
than the breath of the summer air, "The 
company of my lord is always agreeable." 
Leisurely he examined all the furniture, 
felt in all the drawers, hoping by chance to 
discover what it was his wife was hiding from 
him— for that she was hiding something from 
him he felt certain ; but neither seeing nor 
hearing anything unusual, he kissed her 
hand, aid "with his coffret under his arm 
quitted the room. 

When they had seen him cross the draw- 
bridge Marie-Jeanne hurried to the great chest 
and raised the lid Alas 3 the little lord had 
stayed too lung, and the two musicians, 
deprived of air, had both been suffocated. 

Original from 



Belle Yvonne and the well-meaning servant 
wept. It was abominable that two such gay 
and well-bred little singers, who had made 
them dance so delightfully, should lose their 
lives in so miserable a manner. 

When thev became somewhat calmer, 
Yvonne wondered What would come 
of this pitiful adventure. Had they 
done wrong in indulging in a little 
recreation, in disobedience to the 
will of the lord and master, and had 
this accident occurred to punish 
them ? 

Marie-Jeanne, with a shrug of her 
broad shoulders, cut short her 
mistress's lamentations. 

"Don't be downcast, madam," 
she said ; u this misfortune had 
only one cause — my weight— 
which made the lid of the chest 
air-tight ; so that I alone am 
responsible for what has hap- 
pened. It is for me, 
therefore, to find 
some way of getting ^ 

rid of the proofs of 
our disobedience 
before your husband 
returns. 7 ' 

For a long time 
she cudgelled her 
brains. Night was 
closing in upon the 
castle and filling its 
halls with sinister 
gloom, when she 
suddenly cried, in 
tones of triumph : — 

"I have it!" 

" Speak quickly !" 
exclaimed Yvonne, 
glad exceedingly to 
have a servant so 

"This is my plan/' replied Marie-Jeanne, 
unhesitatingly : "In the wildest depths of 
the forest there lives by himself an honest 
woodman. He knows nobody, and does 
not even suspect that he is the vassal of your 
noble husband. I will go and ask him to 
relieve me of these two poor little musicians, 
and for a trifle he will be sure to do us this 
piece of service*" 

*' Do you think he will not be astonished ?'' 

'* Don l worry yourself on that account, my 
dear mistress, but leave nil to me,' 1 replied 
Marie-Jeanne, hurrying off, for time pressed, 

In his hut Marie-Jeanne found old Guide, 
whose hair and beard had so long been left 


by Google 

untrimmed as to cover his entire face. 
Squatting before a tireless hearth, the wood- 
man was seeking the solution of the difficult 
problem — how to live on nothing, 

Astonished at receiving a visitor, he hastily 
rose and offered a plump fagot as the only 

substitute for an arm- 
chair he was able to 

11 To what do I 
owe the honour of 
your presence, de- 
moiselle ? " he asked* 
" The lady chate- 
laine, of whom I am 
the servant," replied 
Marie- Jeanne, boldly, 
M this morning ad- 
mitted to the castle a 
frightful little starve- 
ling, and, moved by 
compassion — for she 
has a tender soul — 
she had a meal set 
before him, of which 
he ate so glutton- 
ously as to choke 
himself and die of it." 
"The c 1 u m s y 
fool!" said Guido, 
wishing that such a 
chance might fall in his 
way, '* He would have 
done better to fill his 
pockets instead of chok- 
ing himself, so that he 
might have doubled his 
pleasure next day." 
That is what he ought to 
have done, wasn't it?" said 
Marie -Jeanne. "Well, my 
mistress having invited this 
poor wretch in the absence 
of her lord, and fearing his 
anger, has sent me to beg you to come and 
take away the body, for which service she 
will give you three pistoles, :? 

Ciuido closed his eyes, and under the close- 
pressed lids saw a river of gold. Three 
pistoles ! Never had he possessed such a 
fortune ! He replied : — 

MVhnt the lady chatelaine doires is an 
order. 1 will immediately come for your 
gormandizer and throw him into the sea." 
"That's it," cried Marie-Jeanne, 
Running back to the castle, she drew one 
of the dwarfs- from the chest and descended 
with it to the urand vestibule, and waited 
against one of the thousand marble columns* 

Original from 


which supported the antique dwelling till she 
was joined by the old woodman, to whom 
she simply said : — 

" Here is your load," 

" Good, goodj" he said, taking it upon his 
shoulder ; Ek in five minutes I shall be hack, 
and* by that time, your glutton will be in the 
stomach of a shark- "' 

So Guido went off, and Belle Yvonne's 
cunning maid returned upstairs to her 
mistress, who waited in a corner of the room 
farthest from the fatal chest. 

"There's onr got rid of." 

''Yes, but there is the other," tremulously 
said her mistress. 

i4 Don't distress yourself as to that ; we'll 
get rid of it quite as easily." And drawing the 
body from the chest, she descended with it to 
the vestibule as before. The sea was only a 
short distance from the castle, and Marie- 
Jeanne soon saw the woodman coming 
kick for his reward. Then, with her two 
hands planted on her hips, and putting 
on an air of indignation, she cried : — 

11 Upon my word ! — 
you've a pretty way of 
executing the commissions 
intrusted to you ! n 

"What da you mean ?" 
stammered the woodman. 

"Why, that five minutes 
ago, our glutton returned 
here and fell dead at mv 
feet ! » 

''Impossible! I saw 
him sink/ 1 

"How could he be here 
at this minute, then ?" 
demanded Marie -Jeanne, 
pointing to the second 
little musician. 

"If I did not see it 
with my own eyes, I would 
not believe it, for I swear to 
you I threw it into the sea 
from the top of the rock." 

u The proof!" 

Greatly irritated at being 
taken for an incompetent, 
(iuido threatened the life- 
less body of the poor little 
musician : — 

Ai Son of a sorcerer, this time I will weight 
your carcass with stones, and I promise you 
shall never come to the surface again ! " 

And shouldering his burden, he once 
more set off without having the least sus- 
picion of the trick which was being play id 
upon him, 

Vol. JCV.-lg 

Marie-Jeanne, delighted by the success of 
her stratagem, went back to her mistress, 
who could not help smiling at the relation 
of the old woodman's indignation on finding 
the second dwarf at the place whence he 
had taken the first. 

But time passed and Guido did not return. 
At last, in their uneasiness concerning him, 
they were wondering whether he might have 
fallen into the sea with his load, when they 
saw him approaching, wiping the perspiration 
from his forehead. 


by Google 


Marie - Jeanne 
took from a casket 
the sum agreed on, 
and hastened to 
meet him. 

While she was 
filling for him a 
goblet of rosy wine, 
the old fellow, his 
eyes sparkling with 
joy, carefully ex- 
amined, weighed, 
and sniffed at the 
three pieces of gold. 
Then, after having 
wrapped them in 
a water-lily leaf, 
emptied the goblet 
at a draught, and 
given vent to a 
deep sigh of satis- 
faction, he said : — 
11 Take my word 

for it, demoiselle, that devil's cub gave me 

some trouble ! " 

"Yes, obliged you to make two journeys." 
"Three! — for in spite of my having filled 

the sack he was in with heavy stones, the 

little man escaped again ! " 

Marie-Jeanne's eyes opened wider lhan 

Original from 




ever they had opened before in her life. She 
was bewildered. 

" What do you mean ? " she asked, as soon 
as she regained the use of her tongue* 

''I was coming back here for the money 
you promised, fully convinced that I had 
finally got rid of your em- * 

barrassing visitor, when, 
close to the portcullis, 
what should I see 
but my Ihtlc man walking 
in front of me, quietly, 
this time, with a small 
box under his arm." 

Guessing the nature of 
the mistake, Marie -Jeanne, 
a little pair, iinmiivd : 

u \Vhat happened then?" 

Ll My blood was up ! " 
exclaimed the old wood- 
man. " A mere nothing 
like him — a thing not taller 
than a distaff — had no 
right to snap his fingers 
at an honest woodman 
like me. So snatching up 
a thick stick, and giving 
him no time to make even 
so much as a gesture, I 
brought him down with a 
single blow, saying, as I 
planted my cudgel on his 
head, 'To slip from the 
trap once might do, but to 
slip from it twice is once 
too many ! J " 

Without asking leave, 
Guido helped himself to 
another goblet of wine, 
then concluded : — 

4 'Now, if he comes 
back, I hope this drink 
of wine may choke me ! 
To your good health, demoiselle ! ' r 

vVithout saying a word, Marie- Jeanne let 
him depart ; then, when the heavy iron- 
bound door had closed behind him, she 
rushed to her mistress, crying : — 

"Lady, put on a black veil j your lord is 
dead and buried ! " 

A low cry escaped from the lips of Belle 

Yvonne, and she fainted— without Marie- 
Jeanne knowing whether her swoon was 
owing to grief or joy. 

The charming widow did not take long to 
console herself. The windows of the ancient 
manor-house, closed for so many years, were 

opened wide, allow- 
ing the pure breath 
of the breeze and 
the gay beams of 
the sun to enter in 

The sombre ivy 
disappeared from 
the antique walls, 
giving place to 
clustering roses ; 
the superb halls, 
built for joy and 
mouldering in 
gloominess, were 



once more illuminated brightly, and Yvonne 
—omitting an invitation to her aunt—gave 
there sumptuous entertainments. 

At the end of a year of widowhood, the 
beautiful chatelaine allowed herself to be 
loved by the King's son, who married her, 
and made her so happy — so happy that she 
never grew* old. 

by Google 

Original from 


[IVe 5 hail he glad to rtuive Cmtribntiom to this section, and to pay f&r sink as are Qicepietf] 


They just gnawed 1 his* great big chunk 
out of a heavy I eat! water- pi|K\ the lead 
being fully half an inch thick. The length 
of the hole is exactly 7in. ; and we can 
see in the photo, that very Utile more 
gnawing was required to cut the pipe 
completely through. This curiosity we have 
received from The Laundry, Charterhouse 
School, Godnlming* Mr. G. Tipping, the 
engineer, who sends the photograph, says 


From a Photo, bv Chat. Waller, 

that the pnawing must hrive Ijecn done 
during the dry weather of last summer, as 
the baths in which the pipe was are only 
used during the football season. This 
curiosity is now in the school museum, 


Mr. William Cross, 
juniv, lends in this very 
pretty pho*o. It shows 
little Madge Burgess 
nursing a lion cub four 
months old. The lion 
has been brought up on 
a feeding ■ bottle* and 
loves its little play male, 
romping on the bed 
TAith her, and running 
up and down the stnirs 
after her- The lion 
even follows the child 
about in the streets, and 
is very jealous of her. 
It is one of a lUter of 
five, and its brothers 
and sisters all died 
through a partition fall- 
ing upon them* It is 
now the pet of Cross's 
wonderful Wild 1 least 
Emporium at Liver- 

Tt was built for the Tennessee Centennial Exhibition al 
Nashville. The See -Saw rests upon a tower loofi. high, and 
is 200ft long, thus giving a maximum elevation of nearly 200ft. 
The struct tire is made entirely of s[eel s and rests upon a sione 
foundation. An electric motor al the top of the tower supplies 
the power for oscillating the Iseam. A magnificent view is 
obtained from the top of the car, The photo, was sent in by Mr. 
Calvin S. Brown, of Vanderbilt University, Nashville, U.S.A. 

by Google 

Original from 



We are indebted fur this curiosity to Mr. 
A. W. Doll end, of 20, High Street, Stanley, 
Kent, Mr. Doll on d recently came acmss this 
relic of the >f had old times " at rghlham, a 
quiet little Kentish village. The trap is merely 
a very large edition of the ordinary iron -jawed 
rat-trap. When set the jaws lie flat upon the 
ground in a wood or elsewhere, and would not 
l»e 1 to l iced among the leaves* The trigger plat- 
form is provided with spikes intended to pierce 
ihe foot of the trespasser and hold it until the 
jaws make a snap at him. The run ice Lt Beware 
of in an -traps and spring -guns " was something 
more than an empty threat when this specimen 
was in use. 


This wonderful photo*, for the use of which we are 

indebted to the Church Missionary Society, was taken 

rivets smashed. So well was the road laid, however, 
that in many cases bridges were suspended in mid- 
air by the bolted rails, 
As is usual in Japan, 
fire followed the earlh- 
qiiaW, and burned to 
death hundreds of poor 
creatures who were 
pinned down under ihe 
ruins of their houses* 


A photographic curio- 
sity this. Taken, of 
course, with the camera 
pointed up the lower at 
the beautiful groined 
church spire j which, in 
this case, happens in be 
that of Saint Botolph's 
Church, Huston, Lines* 
The gentleman who 
sent in ihis photo, was 
Mr. K. Wight man Bell, 
F.CS., of High Bridge, 

alter the great earth- 
quake of J a pan j Oct. 
28th, i£qi. The 
number killed was 
2,347, and the injured 
3,668. In one district 
there were 6 2 t OQr 
houses demolished. 
Our photo, shows a 
long stretch of railway 
line near Ciifu* "It 
was like a tobogganing 
road with its cfevious 
undulations, twisted 
far out of the ordinary 
line. Here and there 
bridge and rails were 
Suspended 20ft. in the 
air. The contorted 
rails were twisted and 
rtiru-1.1. In places they 
formed a letter S, and 
then went up and down 
like plough ruts, ihe 
earth beneath having 
occa s ioria I ly su \ >si d e< 1 
soft, or t£u\ Sleepers 
were splintered and 






At noon on the 12th of July, 
1S92, Mr- J, K Mudilock, the 
^ ell -known novelist, l hen on hfs 
«ay home from Canada in I he 
Sarnia > threw into the icy Straits 
of Belle Isle a soda -water b>u!e 
containing a. message, which t to- 
tjether with the J>ottle, is here 
mmn. Exactly 485 days after- 
wards Mr. Mud dock had a letter 
from Norway saying that his ljottle had been picked up 
by a poor fisherman at the entrance to the Sogne Fiord, 
2.500 miles in a straight line from the place where it was 
committed to the sea. Had it not been picked up it 
radd have gone into the Arctic regions. This experiment 
was of real scientific value, since it was the means of 
set l Jing certain matters relating to ocean currents. 

* 1 huddogil 

r~r^ — } r-i— r 



■ NOffTLftHDi, *.txr 


I CntMi 

AW -4 
s 9 

L V«-1., £ 


4? J* 

teJtjk M. ***** i^~?~~~yL 


was changed to the broad gauge, carriages were 
sold , lieing no longer of use. It then occurred 
to an ingenious man living in a little Hampshire 
village that he might convert one of the carriages 
into a dwelling-house. He improved on his 
original scheme, however, by placing his big rail- 
way carriage upon an ordinary one-storied col I age s 
thus converting the latter into quite an imposing 
residence, of which he is very justly proud. 

This wonderful little book is a relic of ihe 
Queen's reign, it tieing published specially in 
honour of Her Majesty's accession. It is called 

tin.' J\i'^li>h bijou AliumiJic of l*\5^ !in( l VVLiS 
adorned with "poetical illustrations/' This is 
the actual size of the little book, and on the left- 
hand side will be seen a tiny parchment case with 
gilt lettering, into which the almanac was placed* 
The link: case is also actual size. 

Edith Holding, of Belvedere, Fast cm Villas 
Road, Southsea, sends us the above photograph. 
$ome years^ago, when the narrow gauge of the G. VY. R. 

by Google 

Original from 


the night of September 29th last. The photo, was 
taken Isy Mr. K. R. Meyers, with an exposure of six 
seconds. The fire had theft been raging about half 
an hour. Of course, it is* ordinarily impossible to 
obtain ft photograph of a fire ai night, hut the intense 
heat producing incandescence "fa vast quantity of 
meials probably accounts for this successful result*" 


It was sent in by Mr. T« R. Clapham, of Austwick 
Hall, Clapham, Lancaster, *' I placed a door- key 
Upon a photographic platt protected from ordinary- 
light* Over the handle end I placed a piece of good 
plate- glass, whilst over the ward end of ihe key I 


At Clynnog, Carnarvonshire, a little village near 
I he coast, theic is an old church dating from Henry 
VII. Close by it is a collate which was formerly a 
COtmtty inn. On the roof of the porch, as may he 
seen in the photo, , a fine sycamore tree is growing, 
which has been there at Jeast fifty or sisty years, [f 
is supposed to owe its existence to a seedling 
blown from the sycamore in the churchyard, 
and which must have taken root in the soil that 
collected on the porch. 
Hut since the soil is far 
too meagre to support 
so large a tree* it is sup- 
posed that the roots have 
struck down through 
the interior of the wall 
into the earth. No trace 
of a root is, however, 
visible, Sent in by 
Master Maurice David- 
son, 2, (iamhicr Ter- 
race, Liverpool* 

placed a piece of bog oak, }£im thick. I then sub- 
mitted the whole to the influence of the X-rays. 
Strangely enough, not a trace of the handle of the 
key is seen through the plate-glass, whilst the end 
covered with the oak is seen quite sharply," 


(i Inclosed please 
find a curio," writes Dr. 
L, D* Carman, of 1351, 
Q Si reel, N.W., Wash- 
ington, D.C, U + S. A + 
14 The photo, represents 
the burning of the 
power - house of the 
Capital Traction Com- 
pany of Washington, on 


Original from 






We are indebted for 
ibis photo, to the Baptist 
Missionary Society. It 
was taken in Bengal > where 
a great quantity of juice is 
n [ meted from t he . dat e 
pirns, for making sugar 
and various kinds of sweet- 
meats, of which the natives 
are very feed. In the 
flowering season, when the 
yp is abundant, the leaves 
cm one side of the tree ate 
cot lift, ami ihe rind pared 
itotvn to the woody fibre. 
Notches are then cut and 
a peg inserted, so that the 

.uice may be conducted into the calabash 
c uspe«ded lie low. Curiously, the juice runs 
mo« freely at night, thai which exudes during 
the day lieing allowed to run waste as being of 
bile value* Where there are a great number 
nf trees being t appal, watch is kept all ni^ht 
1 ;r fear of thieves and poachers, who wait [heir 
opportunity and climb the trees very early in 
1 he morning to steal l he juice. 

This curious old picture may l>e said to 
^ the earliest known representation of the 
^ameof golf. Two men are seen "putting" 
at the hole* whilst hard by a third i> addressing 
himself to his ball at the tee* Thus in essentials 
1 he game has been unaltered for nearly 400 
years. The illustration given here is taken 
from an early Flemish manuscript of undoubted 
auihenticuy* and the date is about the year 
■S 00 - The game itself, of course, goes l>ack 
into antiquity far beyond this date. 

This model engine is an exact reproduction of the (ireal 
Western ll (Jueen, v Xu. ^5. It was made by Mr. K, J, 
Redttorth, of 3, Castle Street, Slough. I, very part has 
been made to correspond exactly with the original. The 
model runs on a small line of its own, and in the d river's 
* k cab" will be found the same appliances levers, taps, 
etc.— that are seen in the original engine. The model is 
1 ft. gin. long ami gin, wide, and is constructed almost 
entirely of cardboard. The only tools Mr. Red worth used 
were a penknife and a j*atrof scissors. The engine is even 
painted in the colours of the Great Western Company* 
Mr. Red worth has always taken a great interest in loco- 
motive engines, and lu made this one in his holidays, four 
years ago, when he used to go down to Slough Station 
to meet the original of this engine. He made several 
drawings of each section for his guidance. 

by Google 

Original from 



In ihe early part of 
the seventeenth century 
there were a million 
Christians in Japan, but 
fifty years bier came 
a fanatical upheaval 
which ruined this flour- 
ishing church* More 
than 200 pastors 
suffered martyrdom. 
The stamping out of 
Christianity was a root- 
tin tl- branch affair, 
assisted by spies and 
i n famous ordeal s* Ou r 
photo, shows a not ice - 
board ordering thrsr 
measures. These 
notices were exhibited 
in the streets of Japan 
as late as 1&70. 

* 3 M*fci* 

i«m 011 arrival 
not bo positively 


Thi/jr^^t H _ 
Of th^Traln, tlw, 
guaranteed * 

No Smoktog allowed. — No gratuities to be given by Passengers. 

seen in the photo,, 
a large Buddhist 
temple has been 
erected on the 
very su mini I. The 
river at this point 
is from one and a 
half to two miles 
wide* We arc 
indebted for this 
interesting photo, 
to the courteous 
secretary of the 
Baptist Missionary 
Shiciciv, r/umival 
Street, K.C- 


This queer little railway ticket 
was issued as far Jack as 1841, 
and is probably the only one of 
its kind in existence. From this 
specimen it is evident that the 
poor booking -clerk had in all 
cases to write the price 011 each 
ticket, besides filling in the name 
of the station. He had also to 
sign his own name in each case* 
Just think of this system at 
Water loo, or any other large 
station nowadays 1 Note the 
quaint wo* d i ng. * * Th is tick et is 
given subject to there being room 
on arrival of the train, the precise 
hour of which will not be posi- 
tively guaranteed. 1 * Those were 
not days of cheap I ravel ling. 
The journey from Crewe to 
Warrington now costs rather less 
thnn half the amount. AVe are 
in dei iled for this curiosity to Mr 
J. Leva n t si a I ion -master Norton 
Bridge, Stone, Staffs. 



This extremely striking photo- 
graph represents a stupendous 
u 1 >n(Ierl rock in the great Yang- 
tze River, China, not far from 
the Pu-yang Lake. As will be 



(""rw^nL'' Original from 



[See fti^e 129. J 

by Google 

Original from 

The Strand Magazine. 

Vol xv. 


No. 86. 

" Fearless!' 

From the French of Jules Mary. 


E had come to be called 
" Fearless " because of his 
strength and braver)* ; his real 
name was Martin Regereau. 
He was a tall, stout young 
fellow, with plump, rosy cheeks, 
light blue, tender eyes, and blonde hair, cut 
very short, descending in three regular points 
on a forehead as white as that of a woman. 
His robust shoulders, broad without heavi- 
ness, revealed a force about which opinion 
had long been settled in the village of 
Aisements. When he passed along the 
street, strangers from the country, who did 
not knoflr him, said : — 

" That's a strong young fellow ! " 

" That's Martin Regereau. There's not a 
lad in the Ardennes who can throw him in a 
wrestling bout. One day Farmer Vial's bull 
rushed furiously at little Celine. Martin took 
him by the horns, and compelled him to 
back, step by step, with his muzzle between 
his hoofs, into the stable, roaring savagely all 
the time. At the last fair of Saint-Nicholas 
he laid a wager with the young fellows of 
lannoy, Dommery, and Bellevue that, with 
twenty strokes of an axe, he would cut down 
a fifteen-year-old poplar." 

" And he won his bet ? " 

" At the fifteenth stroke the poplar crack ~ 
bent, then came crashing down. Ah, Martin 
Regereau is as strong as thunder, monsieur — 
and yet timid as a sheep." 

Timid he was to a degree that nobody 
could understand. He was turned thirty-two 
in 1870, and he had never talked of getting 
married, though the forty or fifty thousand 
francs left him by his father assured him an 
independent position, and permitted him to 
aspire to the hand of the richest girl in the 
county. Why did he not marry ? The 
question was debated in Aisements ; but 

VoL xv.-ie. 

by Google 

when anybody broached the subject to 
Martin he blushed to the roots of his hair, 
and turned the conversation into a jest. 

He had received some education at the 
school at Charville; but function or calling 
he had none. Fully occupied in doing 
nothing, he passed his life in rendering 
services to others, never asking any for him- 
self. When his neighbours needed help, he 
was ever ready to aid them. Carelessness 
was in his life, not idleness — carelessness 
content with itself, and always free from 

His home was a little cottage, surrounded 
by a big garden, on the outskirts of Aise- 
ments, whence he could see the roofs of the 
farm -inn of Mazures, belonging to Daddy 
Vial. He spent his life in raking the some- 
what too symmetrical paths of his garden and 
lovingly tending the flowers with which the 
beds were filled without much order. To 
see him slouching about, his great, gentle 
head bent upon one of his broad shoulders, 
he might have been taken for a man living in 
the clouds, or for a misanthrope heedless of 
the things about him ; he was neither the 
one nor the other, neither gay nor sad : he 
was living peaceably without thinking, that 
was all. He was a miser in regard to the 
riches of his garden ; one person only might 
plunder it without reproof: it was Celine 
Vial, the daughter of the farmer of Mazures. 
She was twenty years of age, and his god- 

He loved Celine ; he had long loved her. 
She was small and weak, and her weakness 
drew her towards him. She had no suspicion 
of this, and whenever she happened to look 
him in the face, he cast down his eyes, 
embarrassed by her childlike simplicity of 
bearing. He was twelve years older than 
she : was their union possible ? Would it not 
be laughed at in the village ? 

Original from 



It was a love tender and persistent, a con- 
stant idea that was a part of his aimless life. 
At the school where he had received such 
education as he had he had learned to play 
the harmonium, and on Sundays he played 
the organ in the church at Aisements ; when 
he studied at home the religious pieces he 
was to execute, he could see from his window, 
going and coming at Mazures, his little 
Celine, with her bare arms, her streaming 
hair, and her apron over her tucked-up skirt 
Then he would remain for hours contem- 
plating her. 

One dny, in the month of May, 1870, he 
put on his overcoat, clapped his broad- 
brimmed straw hat on the edge of his ear, 

The sun was setting, and the rays from its 
hidden disc rose redly from behind the 
sombre line formed on the horizon by the 
forest of Ardennes, The farm hands were 
returning to Mazures as he came near. 
Daddy Vial was taking the horse out of a 
waggon, and, on catching sight of him, called 
out: — 

" Come on quickly and hear the news ! " 
News? What had happened at Mazures 
to make the farmer so joyous? Released 
from the waggon the horse went off to his 
stable without guidance, and Daddy Vial, 
taking Martin's arm, hurried him into the big 
room of the inn, where Celine was getting 
supper ready. As soon as she saw Martin, 


and set off for the farm, resolved not to 
return home before he had declared himself 
frankly. The situation weighed upon him ; 
and then, Celine was of an age to marry, 
though she did not appear to think about the 
matter. Daddy Vial had thought about it, 
however, and the names of several young 
farmers in easy circumstances had been 
suggested to him. Hitherto he had done 
nothing, but the subject had now become 
pressing, Martin's heart, as he went along, 
felt as if it were being crushed in a vice; the 
blood mounted throbbingly to his head* 

by Google 

she blushed and ran out ; which made her 
father laugh gaily. 

" What is the news you have to tell me ? " 
asked Martin, a feeling of vague uneasiness 
coming upon him, 

" Do you know Btfnoit Bret?" 

*' Yes. He is the son of a farmer at 

"Well, I'm going to marry Celine to 
Benoit Bret." 

Martin looked at Daddy Vial with a quiver- 
ing eye. For a moment he thought the old 
man was joking him— had guessed that he 

Original from 



loved Cdline, ana was putting him through a 
sort of trial. The sudden flight of Celine 
confirmed him in this idea. 

"Yes," Vial continued ; " we are going to 
many her to Benoit Bret. It is a very good 
match, and Celine is content." 

The farmer spoke so seriously, that it was 
quite impossible to misunderstand him a 
second time. 

"Ah ! Celine is content," repeated Martin, 
without knowing what he was saying. 

The blow was a hard one. He trembled 
from head to foot, and his kind face became 
white. Even while he tried to smile, a sob 
rose in his throat. 

"This marriage does not displease you, 
lad, does it ? I shall be glad to have your 
advice. Celine is very fond of you ; you 
have rights over her, as her godfather, and I 
would not dispose of her life against your 

"Oh! so long as Celine is content " 

replied Martin, who felt his reason deserting 

At that moment Celine returned. Fearless 
was strongly inclined to fly, but his feet were 
nailed to the floor. Theyoung girl came to him. 

" He has told you, godfather?" she asked. 

" Yes— he has told me." 

" And you don't object ? " 

"Not since — you are content." 

" And at the wedding mass you will play 
for us some beautiful music on the organ in 
the church ? " 

"Oh, yes ! — as much as you wish for." 

She threw her arms about his neck and 
gave him a sounding kiss on either cheek, 
laughing gaily. 

He stood half-dazed, half-deafened, as by 
the hum of a distant waterfall. They pressed 
him to remain for supper; but he quitted 
the farm on the first pretext that came into 
his head. He gazed on his ,house, his garden, 
his flowers, thinking of nothing. Within 
himself he felt a great, painful void. He felt 
stifled. If he could only have wept ! 

At the end of the month of June the 
wedding took place. The church was full, 
and, from the height of his organ, resting on 
the balustrade, Martin R^gereau sadly beheld 
his happiness pass away from him. His blue 
and somewhat vague eyes wandered distraught 
from the benches to the altar, and from the 
altar to the chairs of the newly married pair. 
Celine, blushing and smiling under her great 
white veil, was beautiful. As to Bdnoit Bret, 
his wide, round shoulders went near to 
splitting the back of his new coat, and Martin 
remarked that, after kneeling, he never failed 

to dust his knees carefully with a big hand- 
kerchief which he drew from one of his 

He had played — death in his heart — wish- 
ing to the end to please his little Celine, but 
it was too much. He could bear no more. 
He wanted to descend, leaving them there. 
He could be spared — he was no longer 

Benoit Bret and Celine approached the 
altar. The old woman who worked the 
organ bellows gave the first impulsion. 
Martin seated himself mechanically and ran 
his fingers over the keyboard. The organ 
rumbled. In front of him his sloping glass 
reflected the bride and bridegroom before 
the priest, with the large veil spread over their 
heads by the witnesses. The flood of organ 
notes filled the church. He played with 
eyelids close pressed, to keep two great tears 
from falling. What music he was playing he 
knew not. 

Suddenly appeals came from below ; cries, 
murmurs mounted from the church floor. 
The old organ-blower stopped, and Martin, 
opening his eyes, seemed to waken from sleep. 
In the narrow stairway leading to the organ 
he heard voices growing louder and louder, 
and presently two or three young persons 
hurriedly and irritatedly burst into the organ- 

" Are you mad, Martin ? " 


" Celine has nearly fainted ! A new idea 
to play such music on a wedding-day ! " 

"What have I played?" asked Martin, 

" What ! Don't you know that you have 
been playing the Dies irae ? " 

And they hurried down the stairs, shrug- 
ging their shoulders and declaring that Martin 
was madder than ever. 


Two months later the Prussians were in the 
heart of France, and the army beating a 
retreat towards the fatal triangle of Sedan. 
Anxiety reigned in the village. The villagers 
went abroad from their homes as little as 
possible, and when they spoke to one 
another despair was in the words they 
exchanged, as it were in secret, under the 
eyes of the Prussians ; distress was stamped 
on the faces of all. They bewailed their 
helplessness ; but sometimes there were out- 
bursts of rage, and five or six — Fearless 
always amongst them — would ambush them- 
selves in the woods and kill the Germans on 
their pillaging excursions.. 

by Google 

Original from 



September and October passed. From 
time to time Martin disappeared for several 
days, until, some morning, he was seen stand- 
ing at the door of his cottage with his arms 
calmly crossed upon his chest, watching, 
with his mild eyes, the movements of the 
Prussians in the village. These disappear- 
ances were — it was noticed by the inhabitants 
— followed by the absence of two or three 
soldiers, who were no more seen until they 
were found by accident in a ditch, at a 
corner of the forest. 

One morning in November, the people of 
Aisements remarked an unusual agitation 
amongst the enemy : they were talking and 
gesticulating furiously. Some who under- 

on which both blood and hair had been found. 
E^noit and the Farmer Vial, on being arrested, 
had confessed that, in a quarrel, they had 
killed the two Prussians at the moment when 
they had surprised them stealing; and that 
they had dragged the bodies to the pit, 
two hundred yards from the farm. 

They were condemned to be shot— the 
execution to take place the next day. This 
news had spread consternation through the 
village. In the afternoon Martin Regereau, 
with a bleeding heart, was thinking of Celine's 
despair^ when the poor girl rushed wildly 
into his house, and threw herself, sobbing, 
into his arms, He tenderly seated her, and 
tried to calm her j but she was seized with a 


stood a few words of German made out 
that it was a question of a Bavarian sergeant 
and a soldier who had been found dead in a 
marl- pit, 

Then a rumour spread with the rapidity of 
lightning* Traces of blood had guided the 
comrades of the two soldiers from the marl -pit 
to Mazures. A search had been made which 
led to the discovery of a hatchet and a bill- 
hook — which had been imperfectly washed — 

by Google 

fit of hysterics, clinging to him with all her 
strength, and shrieking and writhing in his 

" Martin— Martin, you will not let them 
kill my father? " she cried. I( You will save 
them both ? You cannot remain calmly in 
your house while they are being assassinated 
at Mazures— from here you will hear the 
reports of the rifles 1 My God ! My God ! 
Godfather, you are so strong ; so clever ! 

Original from 



There must be some way — I know not what. 
Invent it ; invent it ; I have no head for such 
things. You will try— you will try — will you 
net ? Your little Celine, of whom you are 
so fond, for whom you sacrifice all your most 
beautiful flowers— it will be her death ! Tell 
me, Martin, that you will try and do some- 
thing ? " 

And she sobbed, hanging to his neck, 
while his heart swelled to bursting at sight 
of her tears. 

"Yes, I promise you, Celine, I promise 
you," he murmured. "If I can save your 
father — and B^noit," he said, hesitatingly, " I 
will give them back to you. Don't despair. 
I don't know what I can do, but I'll think 
until I can form some plan. Where are 

"In the cellar — bound with cords about 
their legs and arms. There is a post of 
twenty men at Mazures, and the captain in 
command of the detachment lodges at the 

R^gereau thought for awhile. 

" There are two hundred men at Aise- 
ments," he said, after some minutes' reflection. 
"What is to be done?" 

Celine saw that he was perplexed. 

" You will save them, godfather ? " she 
cried, with re-awakened terror. 

"Yes, yes," he replied, agonized by the 
despair of his beloved one. "But don't 
stay here any longer, Celine. Go back to 
Mazures. Take courage — and, above all, 
don't try to see your father, and don't commit 
any imprudence." 

She left him. 

R^gereau at once abandoned his house 
to the Prussians whom he was lodging, and 
went from wine-shop to wine-shop, strolling 
negligently with his hands in his pockets, his 
head bent on one shoulder, and his cap on 
his ear. He entered four or five houses — 
remaining in each a few minutes — then 
strolled away, appearing as indifferent as 
ever, his nose in the air. He had arranged 
a meeting with a dozen woodmen and work- 
men employed by the wheelwright Reboux. 
Then, without returning home, he went to 
the wood of La Kerpine, two kilometres 
from the farm of Mazures, which was itself 
separated from Aisements by Bord-de l'Eau 
meadow, some two or three hundred metres 

At nightfall, the woodmen and wheel- 
wrights called together by Martin quitted 
the village, climbing over the hedges, slipping 
through the underwood, following the* course 
of the field-side ditches, and screening them- 

selves from ooservation in all the hollows of 
the ground. They reached the jfirlids, then 
the wood of La Kerpine, where R£gereau 
was watching for them. Under their work- 
men's blouses of blue linen they had con- 
cealed hatchets, some of them having pistols 

They set out, moving separately and a 
long way apart from each other, and using all 
possible precautions. Fortunately, the sky 
was thickly covered with clouds, and the night 
was very dark. 

Behind the farm there was a large orchard 
extending to the outbuildings. On reaching 
the orchard they stopped, re-assembled, and 
conferred together, crouching behind a hedge. 

It was agreed that Martin should enter the 
farm-inn alone. How he was to do it, how 
he was to overcome the suspicions of the 
Prussians, he did not know. Circumstances 
must guide him. The others were to wait, 
ready for any event, and to dash forward as 
soon as they heard the signal which Martin 
would give— by breaking one of the windows. 

There was a sentinel before the inn door, 
another before the cellar, a third and a fourth 
guarding the path leading to the farm. From 
the place where they were crouching, Martin 
and his companions could hear the regular 
and heavy tread of the soldiers in the still- 
ness of the night. 

Martin advanced, but he had not gone a 
hundred paces before he heard the rough 
voice of the Prussian sentinel, demanding : — 


In the three months during which the 
Prussians had been cantoned at Aisements 
he had learned enough German to make 
himself understood. He replied to the 
sentry the word " Friend " ; adding that 
he belonged to the village. The Prussian 
levelled his rifle at him as he approached, 
and, in this way, Fearless in front of him, 
conducted him to the farm. 

Fifteen soldiers were seated about the table 
in the big room which served for the common 
room both of the farm and the inn ; all were 
drinking or playing at cards. By the wide 
hearth, an officer, enveloped in his heavy 
black cloak, was extended on a sort of camp 
bed ; further on, in the shadow made by the 
projecting fire-place, Celine sat buried in an 
old chair ; waiting, listening for the least 
sound coming from without. 

When he entered, she started involuntarily, 
but instantly repressed the movement The 
soldiers had raised their heads, and one of 
them, a sergeant, advanced towards him. 
There was an exchange of words between 

by Google 

Original from 



"WERDA? '" 

him and the sentry, who stood stiffly, with 
grounded arm, hy the door, The officer had 
not taken any notice of what- was passing. 
Dismissed by the sergeant, the sentry 
presently shouldered his rifle and pivoted on 
his heels, and quitted the room as mechani- 
cally as if his legs were moved by springs. 
The sergeant, who spoke French, then 
demanded explanation of Regereau, 

Fearless, quite calmly, replied that one of 
his uncles was ill in the village of Thin-la- 
Moutier, two leagues from there. He had 
been to visit him, and returned to Aisements 
across the fields, as the shortest way, not 
imagining that anybody could suspect him of 
having any evil purpose, so well known as he 
was in the village — the sergeant himself must 
recollect his face. 

The sergeant recognised him, and some of 
the soldiers made signs that they had seen 
him before, that he was not unknown to thetn. 
The sergeant, thus satisfied, authorized him 
to go on his way, and proposed to conduct 
him past the sentry on duty outside, but 
Martin begged to be allowed to remain. He 
was tired. He had walked quickly, hoping 
to reach home before nightfall, and he was 

by Google 

thirsty, and all the other public-houses 
in Aisements were certainly shut up 
at that hour. He asked only to stay 
five minutes, no more. 

The Germans looked at him sus- 
piciously—his persistence gave rise to 
doubts in their minds, They talked 
together in low tones. They examined 
him from head to foot, to make sure 
that he was not armed ; then, without 
giving him permission, or refusing to 
allow him to remain, they left him. 
Martin at once raised his voice : — 
"Mam'zelle Celine, a jug of cider, if 
you please." And as she passed him, 
pale and trembling, he whispered to 
her : 1£ Bring a hatchet, on pretence of 
splitting some fire -wood." He then 
crossed to one of the soldiers who were 
playing at cards, and appeared to watch 
the game with great interest 

When they laughed, Fearless imitated 
them, as if he thoroughly understood 
their jokes. Now and then, one of 
them would show him his cards, calling 
to him : *' Messie ! Messte ! " At which 
Martin nodded his head knowingly* 

Celine had brought the cider, then 

busied herself in splitting logs for the 

fire. After which she placed the hatchet 

by the leg of the table nearest to 


Regereau now moved about the room 

without anyone paying any attention to him. 

All suspicion was lulled The rifles of the 

soldiers were ranged against the wall ready to 

hand at the first alarm, What he had to do 

was to prevent the Germans from seizing their 

arms, so as to give time to the woodmen to 

arrive after hearing the signil. To effect that 

delay, he had full confidence in his audacity 

and strength. 

He returned towards the soldiers, lit his 
pipe, and seated himself on the window- 

Suddenly two or three panes of glass fell 
with a crash into the yard outside. The 
soldiers sprang to their feet tumultously, 
and several of them were hurrying to their 
arms, when Martin turned away from the 
broken window with a laugh, saying to the 
sergeant : — 

'* I did it accidentally* by leaning too 
heavily against the glass. Tray excuse my 

The soldiers went back to their seals, while 
Martin pretended to repair the broken window 
as well as he could. At the sound of the 
splintered glass the officer had risen and 

Original from 



paced up and down the big room, and the 
sentinel had put his broad face in the opening 
of the door. The officer at length, turning 
to Martin, said, bluffly : — 
"Take yourself off!" 
At the same moment a shot was heard, the 
sound of the report deadened by distance. 

kC The moment has come ! " cried Martin, 
and lifting the massive and heavy table which 
ran almost the length of the room, he over- 
turned it between himself and the Prussians, 
thus separating them from their rifles and 
throwing some of them on to the ground. 

The soldiers cried " To arms ! " and threw 
themselves u(x>n him. At the same time a 
second report, followed instantly by a third, 
was heard without. The sentinel who guarded 
the cellar, and the one who was on duty at 
the door, had fired on the advancing 

Within, there was a great tumult, with 
exclamations of rage and imprecations. Fear- 
less dominated by the whole height of his 
body the table he had overturned, and made 
a terrible sweep around him with the hatchet 
left by Celine. The captain had fired at 
him with his revolver, and wounded him 
twice- One ball had glanced off his forehead, 
and the blood which streamed over his face 
and eyes blinded him. Martin split his 
assailant's skull in two with a blow of his 
hatchet, and the Prussian fell dead without 
uttering a sigh. It was the third who had 
fallen under his terrible weapon. Martin 
faced on every side. Solidly planted in front 
of the pile of the overturned needle-guns, he 
surrounded himself with a circle of iron. 

Suddenly, three tall and heavy soldiers 
threw themselves upon him, with the hope of 
paralyzing his movements : the first fell by a 
back stroke of the hatchet, but the other two 
seized him by the arms. He shook them as 
a wild boar shakes a pack of hounds hanging 
to his flanks. 

But then the scene changed. Twenty men 
with hatchets and pistols in their hands 
sprang into the room and threw themselves 
into the midst of the Prussians, some of whom 
had succeeded in regaining possession of 
their rifles. Those who made any resistance 
were killed without mercy, and the others 
shut up in a room, against the door of which 
the heavy furniture of the farm was piled, to 
prevent their escaping. Seven Prussians lay 
upon the floor with cloven skulls. 

They went out, Martin, wounded as he was, 
carrying in his arms the insensible Ctfline. 
" To the cellar ! to the cellar ! " he cried. 

They rushed into the yard. The sentinel 
Vol. xv -17. 

Digitized by Google 

who had guarded the prisoners lay dead ; the 
wheelwrights, who had come that way, had 
dispatched him with a hatchet. Beside the 
German lay a dying workman, pierced by a 
bullet which had been fired at him point- 
blank. They carried him away. 

Daddy Vial and B£noit were set free. In 
the direction of Aisements there was a great 
noise, as of a body of soldiers advancing at 
the double. The Prussians, warned by a 
sentinel who had fled, were coming. 

" We must reach the woods," said 

All hid themselves behind the trees, Martin, 
with Vial and B&iott, last. Already the 
Prussians from Aisements were firing on them 
at random ; but they were in the fields. 
Night protected them. 

Suddenly a shadow rose, behind a hedge, 
near the spot where Martin had been stopped 
by the first sentinel. It was the German, who 
had seated himself in a ditch. He shouldered 
his long rifle, aimed at one of the men who 
was disappearing in the darkness — but he 
hesitated. The workmen were cunning ; he 
might miss his mark. B^nolt Bret stopped. 

" Let me carry Celine," he said. 

A flash illuminated the night a few paces 
behind them : a report followed. B£noit 
Bret pressed his hand on his side. 

" I'm killed," he said, sinking down upon 
the grass. 

Without saying a word — there was no time 
to lose, the balls were hissing around them 
— Martin placed Celine in the hands of her 
father, lifted B£noit Bret in his robust arms, 
and disappeared in the darkness. 

Half an hour later they were saved. But 
before plunging into the depths of the 
woods they had cast a last look towards 
Aisements, and had seen a red light illumin- 
ing the horizon. The Prussians had avenged 
themselves by setting Mazures in flames. 


In the month of May, when France felt itself 
calmer, Daddy Vial and R^gereau returned 
to Aisements, with Celine and those of the 
woodmen and wheelwrights who had not 
fallen in the siege of Meziferes or in the 
battle of St. Quentin. B^noit Bret had died 
in Martin's arms. They had buried him in 
the wood of I^a Kerpine. Then they had 
succeeded in reaching Mez&res, which, at 
that moment, was still blockaded. After the 
bombardment of the town, Martin and others 
entered the corps of Francs-tireurs which 
rejoined the army of Faidherbe. Celine and 
her father took refuge in Belgium. 

j 1 1 1 .' 1 1 1 


r 3° 


Returned to Aisements, Daddy Vial and 
his daughter lived in Martin Rdgereau's 
house while the Mazures farmhouse was 
being re-built. Martin had gone back to his 
quiet old ways of living, spending his time 
in strolling about when he was not occupied 
with his flowers and his garden, which had 
been ravaged by the Germans. Everything 
had to be renewed, dug, raked, re-planted. 

The six months which passed in this way 
were six months of happiness for him. Celine 
was there, near him, working at the window 
looking out upon the garden. He saw her 
whenever he wished. His affection for her, 
always so warm and tender, grew stronger 
with the sight of her sadness. Then, at the 
bottom of his heart, there was something like 
an unconfessed hope. The remembrance of 
Benoit Bret would grow weaker. Time 
would, little by little, efface from Celine's 
life the lugubrious chapter of the war and the 
death of her husband. She was too young 
to remain a widow. Then there came to 
him gusts of happiness. This time, he would 
not be too late ! 

He made all these reflections as, with 
rounded shoulders, he drove his spade into 
the ground. A smile illumined his face ; he 
felt impelled to leap, to dance, to move 
about, repeating : " She is mine ! — mine ! 
She will not be taken from me again. I have 
well deserved her." Then he would straighten 
himself, and, resting on the handle of his 
spade, look at Celine, knitting or sewing at 
the open window ; and she would turn her 
bright little head towards him, aud nod to 
him with a smile. 

" You are hot, godfather." 

" Oh, no, C&inette." 

" Stay a moment, and I'll bring you some 
cider. Don't move from where you are." 

" I am not hot, Celine. All I'm doing is 
for you, and when I'm working for you I 
never feel tired." 

11 For me ? " 

"Why— don't you any longer care for 
flowers ? " 

" How good you are, godfather ! You 
spoil me " 

She shook her finger at him, by way of 
threat — and he, happy, and with a glowing 
heart, bent again over his spade and dug 
with renewed ardour, his head filled with 
wild thoughts. 

When Mazures was rebuilt Vial and 
Celine installed themselves there. The 
farmer had for some time seemed thought- 
ful, and had regarded Martin with an air 
of embarrassment Questions, which he 

by K: 



had not the courage to ask, had risen to 
his lips. When Martin and Celine were 
together, he had considered them alternately, 
trying to read what was passing in their 
hearts. He had odd sorts of conversations 
with Martin, from which he extracted nothing 
but suspicions of the young man's love, with- 
out daring to question him openly. In the 
end, as Martin said nothing, he concluded 
that he had deceived himself. 

At the moment of declaring himself, 
Martin hesitated. Timidities, scruples rose 
in his mind. If he asked for the hand of 
Celine and she did not love him, her father 
might, perhaps, think himself obliged to 
sacrifice his daughter's happiness for him. He 
had saved Celine, he had saved her father ; 
these were such services as one does not 
know how to recognise with sufficient 
gratitude. His soul was too good to profit 
by such a situation. He would rather remain 
a bachelor than take Celine against herself. 

One October evening, however, he resolved 
to go to Mazures. 

The farm-servants, Celine, and Vial were 
just rising from table when he arrived. 

"Good evening, lad," said the farmer. 
11 You are come to spend the evening with 
us ? Welcome ! I have only one reproach 
to make to you." 

"What is that?" 

"That we don't see you here often 

" I want to say two words to you, Daddy 

" Speak out, lad." 

Fearless hesitated, discountenanced, trem- 
bling in all his limbs. Then, with a great 
effort, and in a very low tone, he said : — 

" Daddy Vial, will you let me become the 
husband of Celine ? " 

The farmer was seated. He started to 
his feet, looking very pale and angry, and 
replied : — 

" Lad — three days ago the hand of Celine 
was promised to the father of Pauline Lerivier, 
the tanner " 

"Pauline, the tanner?" stammered Martin. 

He staggered a few paces, unconscious of 
what he was doing. He clung to the table 
to save himself from falling, and, turning to 
the farmer, with haggard eyes and white lips, 
he sobbed : — 

" At least— you are not angry with me, not 
angry with me ? " 

And suddenly he fell upon the floor, like 
one stricken with apoplexy. Vial called 
wildly, terrified, tearing his hair. Celine and 
the servants hurried back into the room. 

Original from 



T 3* 

" Oh, my good, good godfather ! " cried the 
young widow, and fainted. 

The farmer hurried from one to the other 
and felt his reason giving way. 

" Quick ! — bring a doctor — Doctor 
Tabourrot ! " 

And, helped by the servants, he carried 
Martin to a bed, then attended to Celine. 
Tabourrot arrived ten minutes later, Celine 
recovered from a fit of hysterics. He ordered 
her a potion, then went to Regereau, whom 
he bled, He remained all night by the 

no doubt as to the depth of his love. At 
length he came to himself ; recognised those 
who were about him ; inquired as to what 
had happened; remembered - and wept 

Then Celine bent over him, took in hers 
the two hands of the poor fellow who was 
trying to hide his tears, looked long into his 
face ; and then, somewhat brusquely, and 
with a touch of anger in the midst of her 
emotion : — 

u Godfather — why did you not speak 
sooner?" And, as he made no answer, she 


patient's bedside, aided by Celine and Vial 
All the farm, all the village, was in a state of 
unease, On the next day Tabourrot declared 
that he should he able to save Martin's life. 

For the space of a week he was delirious, 
during which he talked ramblingly, and said 
things which left Celine and Daddy Vial in 

added, almost in a whisper: " l t too, love 
you — have long loved you ! " 

A hearty laugh sounded from behind the 
bed-curtain, and Daddy Vial, his broad, 
honest face ruddy with smiles, cried : — 

11 She is yours, you big goose ! — she is 
yours I " 

by Google 

Original from 

Royal Menus. 

By J. J. Moran. 



HE growing demand for in- 
formation as to all matters 
of national and Imperial im- 
portance connected with the 
personal life of Royalty (such 
matters, for instance, as the 
size of the gloves worn by our beloved 
Queen, and the colour of the largest cat at 
Windsor Castle) betokens a patriotic fervour 
greatly to be welcomed. So urgent, indeed, 
has the demand been found, that the supply 
of facts has now and again failed to keep 
pace with it, and many a hard-worked journ- 
alist has been driven to his imagination for 
his anecdotes ; anec- 
dotes which all the 
other hard - worked 
journalists instantly 
fell upon with large 
scissors and repro- 
duced in their own 
journals* As is the 
case in other depart- 
ments of fiction, the 
kailyard school of 
anecdote takes its 
full share of public 
attention, and the 
happenings (mostly 
meaning things that 
might have hap- 
pened) about Bal- 
moral have been 
prepared in large 
quantities and with 
heavy pepperings of 
dialect. Thus the 
story of the boy- 
driving sheep who 
shouted indignantly 
to Her Most Gra- 
cious Majesty to 
" Gang awa', wifie, 

and dinna brak ma sheep : ?1 may be true or it 
may not, but in any case it has as generous a 
dose of dialect as can well be crammed into 
eight words, and, after all, that's what people 

The anecdote culinary and the anecdote 
gastronomical, closely allied in nature, and 
sometimes indistinguishable, have also had 
their part among the most esteemed stories of 
the little doings of Royalty. In this paper 
we shall not report simple facts (nor, indeed, 

Digitized by Lt< 


any of the other things), but shall present the 
facts themselves by way of facsimiles. So 
that our fellow-countrymen who rightly esteem 
the importance of a general knowledge of 
what daily food is preferred and consumed 
by Royalty may refer direct to the menus 
themselves, or, at any rate, to as good re- 
productions thereof as the resources of photo- 
graphy will permit. 

First, then, we have a menu itself somewhat 
in the kailyard manner. It is the menu of the 
Queen's luncheon served on Sunday, Decem- 
ber 30th, 1888, on board a yacht on which 
Her Majesty was taking a short cruise. The 

design of the card 
is Scotch distinctly, 
and such as to lead 
one at once to look 
for caller herrin 1 in 
the list. Herring, 
however, is not there 
— caller or other- 
wise ; a good oppor- 
tunity is lost in line 
three, where " Fai- 
sans rotis " (merely 
roast pheasant) 
might at least have 
been made '* Faisans 
de Billingsgate/' But 
there are Scotch 
broth, haunch of 
venison (of Scotch 
deer, doubtless), 
Scotch kale (kail- 
yard, indeed !), boar's 
head, and brawn. 
Hut in order not to 
show undue prefer- 
ence, and so offend 
national susceptibili- 
ties, there is Indian 
curry, also "bouillie 
gratinee H (which means baked milk pud- 
ding) as a concession to France ; and 
something called "Gerostete Lerchen," which 
would seem to have been made in Germany. 
While, to finish the list and to reconcile 
ancient enemies, there is apple tart done 
in a German manner, and described in 
the French language. Altogether a suffi- 
ciently Scotch luncheon, with an elegant 
touch of cosmopolitanism to save it from 
severity. Original from 

**. <yt>* 

«A ^di^*f. *-*+. 



The next menu has a mare important 
and more historical character. It is that 
of the Royal wedding breakfast eaten on 
the occasion of the marriage of the Duke 
of York and Princess May, Thursday, July 
6th, 1893. The floral design at the side 
is printed, in the original, in silver, gold, 
and pink, and it carries its meaning ; the 
white roses of York being twined with 
hawthorn and other flowers blossoming in 
May — this in compliment to the Royal 
bride's name. As to the solid in forma- 
tion, we perceive that there are two soups 
as usual, hot entrees and cold, divided 
by fillets of beef and larded fowls, an- 
nounced in French. It is all a very 
admirable breakfast, including nothing 
very astonishing {one doesn't like being 
astonished at meals, especially in presence 
of Royalty), but a good many very excel- 
lent things. Lamb cutlets make capital 
entrees^ and so do duckling and peas, 
even when they come disguised in French* 
Lobster sabd and mayonnaise are good, 
too, for those who have good digestions, 
and so are ham and tongue in aspic jelly, 
and collar of veal, and all the rest of it. 


Thursday. 6th July 1893 


r Poufrt* frai in Trritorti 


■■ill J--, d" \lorvk'>i 
4 I A-^pif . 
decouple* i I'Anpie. 

RisiLirdrt d* Vrtu. 

L*t } |j ■ i.:?! 

by Google 

It is something of a puzzle to guess why 
the able litterateur who composed this 
menu could bring himself at the end of 
his task calmly to set down 1( cold roast 
fowls " in simple English. But he did it ; 
though one would suppose that " poulets 
rotis, froids" would have done as well. 

Three years and a few months ago — 
on November 27th, 1894, to be precise — 
Her Majesty the Queen dined at Windsor, 
and what was offered her appears on her 
menu for the meal, here reproduced. 
Again we may recognise a graceful cosmo- 
politanism in the selection, red mullets 
done Italian fashion standing just below 
an indefinite Indian dish of fish, the 
partridges being cooked in a Flemish way, 
and the roast beef uf Old Kngland giving 
general support, while the whole feast is 
held together and given finish by a general 
layer of the French language. Truly our 
Queen has none of the exclusive Chau- 
vinism of her grandson of Germany, who 
was some time si nee reported to have 
ordered all his menus to be set out in 

Original from 




German wholly and entirely. The design of 
this card is in gold, blue, red, and brown* 

Now we arrive at a menu which gives a 
piece of information as to a ta&te of Her 
Majesty's which k little known. It is a taste 
for roast beef and plum pudding eaten from 
the same dish. The releve, as one sees, is 
roast beef, with Yorkshire pudding and 
plum pudding served with it Truly, our 
Queen could offer no better testimony of 
her truly English character than her pre- 
ference for a combination of the two 
national dishes on the same plate. Whether 
a public knowledge of this preference will 
lead to the eating of beef and plum pudding 
together as a general fashion, we are unable 
to prophesy ; but if such a result actually 
follow, we do venture to prophesy digestive 
trouble among those of Her Majesty's 
subjects blessed (or otherwise) with a weaker 
constitution than that of their Queen, 
Another very noticeable thing — noticeable in 
most of these menus— is that Her Majesty 
always has a certain sound "stand-by," or more, 
on a side table. These arc usually hot and 
cold fowls, beef, and tongue, all very excellent 
resources in case of a temporary distaste for 

things more artificial. The menu under 
notice is dated Sunday, February 3rd, 1895, 
at Osborne* 

Here ts another Royal wedding breakfast, 
three years later than that we have spoken of 
already. On Wednesday, July 22nd, 1896, 
Prince Charles of Denmark and Princess 
Maud were married. The menu card of the 
breakfast is printed in gold, silver, red, 
green, blue, and pink. At the bottom the 
initial of Prince Charles (embellished with 
an anchor to signify his naval profession) 
is joined to that of Princess Maud by 
a true lover's knot, and at the top the crowned 
monogram of our Queen beams over all. 
Roses, forget-me-nots, shamrocks, and thistles 
typify the sentiments proper to the occasion, 
further assisted by knots of silver ribbon. As 
for the tale of dainties itself, it is singularly 
like that of the other wedding breakfast — 
indeed, every very good wedding breakfast is 
a matter of much the same dishes as every 
other, The soups are different, it is true, 
but the hot entrees and the relev^saree\actly 
the same, and the cold entrees are very little 
varied, except that this time the composer 
spells il roulades iJ correctly, But he has not 
mustered the courage to wind up with that 


Royal Wedding Breakfast 

Wfbnekhy. 22nd Jul*. 1B96 


CtlvUtlti &Atn*** i t h*Jitr»» 

AidU'irM-*! dr L-ifl<rl410» 4UI |Kll* 

FiKti di i. : • k U NtpobtuM. 

Pouljl* (TAJ iiti Crnmi, 


Ch-lodflOjidl lit VoJjliJJr Mir CfiiuEcL 

S?]ld«l d'Homirrt 

jMntKim decoupti a t'AipiE. 

Laiip>e* drcaupcei * 1 Aipe. 

M.i?ga*thf i J* VolaiJre. 
Raui-dc* dt V>*..i 1 U Crt.irT 

Hil-itoEl rrrli 

." i .: ..| I" 

riliiKiie ■IMrtll. 

by Google 

Original from 



calmly English " cold roast fowls " that dis- 
tinguished the other menu. Vegetables and 
sweets are precisely as before. 

Our next is the menu of the Queen's din- 
ner on Monday, September 28th, 1896, at 
Balmoral The border, with its slags' heads, 
thistles and heather, is extremely and appro- 
priately Scotch, but the written list is pure 
and uninterrupted French until we arrive at 
that excellent "Side table/' with its fowls, its 
tongue, and its beef. So much had wo written 
when we glanced at the list again and saw 
that we were mistaken : the list is pure 
French except for the one very British item 
11 roast beef," which must always stand im- 
portant in any dinner which shall please 
Her Majesty. And, indeed, though the 
names be French, there is much sound 
British food disguised in this list. There is 
ox-tail soup, fried whiting, haunch of venison, 
and stuffed turkey— though there are worthy 
people who might fail to recognise these 
things in " potage aux queues de bceuf," 
"merlans frits/ 1 "banche de venaison/' and 
ct dindes farcis." Just as a gentleman from 
the country, whom we once observed at a 
great restaurant after he had ordered " Pied 

7 W r A*il^Jf 


£(je Banal JEmubc&n, 

MONDAY 2nd AUGUST, 1897 

Fouft Tipnx* t*Ml 

balti m Giitin 

CoLticiifi d r A{nciu pn»*c* uuttti 

U -u jf brtiK 1 1U M j: xr-mi 

Y\i\tt de Rk» de Vcbu i lj ue \<z 

IVmlf n | U i "iiwr ,.lc 

tfniurLli *M i.Ei.r> 

Rli tui Pfchei 

TpfU lc l'--_nn 


Hoi ind Cold Rem t'uwl* 
C*fU RuJit B*rf ToAgut 
Hanuid. Siiuc R*tHou4»de 


yf boogie 

di pore au Bechamel," by pointing to the 
words with his finger; and who was mightily 
amazed, a minute later, at receiving a pigs 

On August 2nd of last year, the King of 
Siam took luncheon with Her Majesty, On 
that occasion, by reason of the preferences of 
the Royal guest, the dishes were of a much 
lighter nature than are generally set before 
the Royal Family. The menu card, which was 
printed in the colours of Siam, is here repro- 
duced. C Hear tapioca soup is not heavy, nor is 
sole au gratin, nor spinach with eggs, nor 
peaches and rice, Indeed, the heaviest dish 
in the luncheon proper would seem to be 
braised beef with macaroni ; but there stands 
the faithful buffet, laden as usual with hot and 
cold roast fowls, cold roast beef and tongue, 
and in addition, with lobster and a salad ; 
ready for the succour of such as may require 

Three days later is the date of out next 
example, but then there was no Oriental 
monarch to consider. Consequently, observe 
the difference After the soup there are 
fillets of soles, fillets of beef, fowls, goose- 
livers in jelly, green peas, omelette, and 
brown bread pudding with cherries. And 
tlii' fowls and tongue on the buffet ^re 

Original from 



reinforced by cold lamb and salad and 
anchovies on toast. Buckingham Palace was 
the scene of this luncheon, and the design 
of the menu card, in gold, green, red, and 
blue, is perhaps more remarkable for com- 
plexity than for beauty. 

Last we have a remarkable menu card, of 
a luncheon consumed, not by our Queen, 1 at 
by her grandson, the German Emperor. The 
luncheon was prepared and eaten on board 
the Emperor's yacht Meteor (previously 
Thistle) in course of a race, The menu is 
written very hurriedly in pencil, and, wonder 
of all wonders, in English 3 Somebody 
seems to have been in such a hurry as to 
forget all his French and the Emperor's order 
as to German menus at the same time. The 
word "luncheon" is hastily abbreviated to 
*' lunch, Ji and "Imperial 15 is left out 
altogether, which looks rather like an insidi- 

ous sort of Ifat-majestL Nevertheless, no 
treasonable attempt is made to starve the 
Emperor. Gravy soup, fillet of sole, with 
anchovy sauce, fricasseed chicken and 
macaroni, fillet of beef sautd with mush- 
rooms, roast leg of lamb and mint sauce, 
with green peas ; beans, asparagus and butter, 
chocolate puddings, maraschino jelly, caviar, 
dessert, and coffee— this lunch spells any- 
thing but starvation. And, if this is the 
insufficient luncheon of the (German Emperor 
in a hurry, racing his yacht, what must his 
full dinner be like at home, with plenty of 
time to eat it? 


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Original from 


The Brotherhood of the Seven Kings. 

By L, T. Meade and Robert Eustace. 
II.— THE WINGED ASSASSIN.— Told by Norman Head. 




] \ \w2 f 

Y scientific pursuits no longer 
interested me. I returned to 
my house in Regent's Park, 
but only to ponder recent 
events. With the sanction of 
conscience I fully intended to 
traitor to the infamous Brotherhood 
which, in a moment of mad folly, I had 
joined. From henceforth my object would 
be to expose Mme. Koluchy. By so doing, 
my own life would be in danger ; nevertheless, 
my firm determination was not to leave a 
stone unturned to place this woman and her 


lawyers in London. I went therefore one 
day to his office, I was fortunate in finding 
him in, and he listened to the story, which I 
told him in confidence, with the keenest 

" If this is true, Head/' he said, ''you 
yourself are in considerable danger." 

"Yes," I answered; "nevertheless, my 
mind is made up- I will enter the lists 
against Mme. Koluchy. 1 ' 

His face grew grave, furrows lined his high 
and bald forehead, and knitted themselves 
together over his watchful, grey eyes. 


confederates in the felon's dock of an English 
criminal court, To effect this end one thing 
ivas obvious; single-handed I could not 
work, I knew little of the law, and to 
expose a secret society like Mme. Koluchy % 
I must invoke the aid of the keenest and 
most able legal advisers, 

Colin Dufrayer, the man 1 had just met 
before my hurried visit to Naples, was 
assuredly the person of all others for my 
purpose* He was one of the smartest 

Vol *v,-18 

by \j 



" If anyone but yourself had brought me 
such an incredible story, Head, I should 
have thought him mad," he said, at last 
11 Of course, one knows that from time to 
time a great master in crime arises and sets 
justice at defiance ; but that this woman 
should be the leader of a deliberately 
organized crusade against the laws of Eng- 
land is almost past my belief. Granted it is 
so, however, what do you wish me to do ? n 

41 Give me your help," I answered; "use 

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your ingenuity, employ your keenest agents, 
the most trusted and experienced officers of 
the law, to watch this woman day and night, 
and bring her and her accomplices to justice. 
I am a rich man. and I am prepared to 
devote both my life and my money to 
this great cause. When we have obtained 
sufficient evidence, let us lay our information 
before the authorities." 

He looked at me thoughtfully ; after a 
moment he spoke. 

" What occurred in Naples has doubtless 
given the Brotherhood a considerable shock," 
he said, "and if Mme. Koluchy is as clever 
as you suppose her to be, she will remain 
quiet for the present. Your best plan, there- 
fore, is to do nothing, and allow me to watch. 
She suspects you, she does not suspect me." 

" That is certainly the case," I answered. 

"Take a sea voyage, or do something to 
restore your equilibrium, Head; you look 

" So would you be if you knew the woman, 
and if you had just gone through my terrible 

" Granted, but do not let this get on your 
nerves. Rest assured that I won't leave a 
stone unturned to convict the woman, and 
that when the right moment comes I will 
apply to you." 

I had to be satisfied with this reply, and 
soon afterwards I left Dufrayer. I spent a 
winter of anxiety, during which time I heard 
nothing of Mme. Koluchy. Once again my 
suspicions were slumbering, and my attention 
was turned to that science which was at once 
the delight and solace of my life, when, in 
the May of the following year, I received a 
note from Dufrayer. It ran as follows : — 

" My Dear Head, —I have received an 
invitation both for you and myself to dine 
and sleep next Friday at Sir John Winton's 
place at Epsom. You are, of course, aware 
that his horse, Ajax, is the favourite for the 
Derby. Don't on any account refase this 
invitation -throw over all other engagements 
for the sake of it. There is more in this than 
meets the eye. 

44 Yours sincerely, 

" Colin Dufrayer." 

I wired back to Dufrayer to accept the 
invitation, and on the following Friday went 
down to Epsom in time for dinner. Dufrayer 
had arrived earlier in the day, and I had not 
yet had an opportunity of seeing him alone. 
When I entered the drawing-room before 
dinner I found myself one of a large party. 
My host came forward to receive me. I 
happened to have met Sir John several times 

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at his club in town, and he now signified his 
pleasure at seeing me in his house. A moment 
afterwards he introduced me to a bright-eyed 
girl of about nineteen years of age. Her 
name was Alison Carr. She had very dark 
eyes and hair, a transparent complexion, and 
a manner full of vivacity and intelligence. I 
noticed, however, an anxious expression 
about her lips, and also that now and then, 
when engaged in the most animated con- 
versation, she lost herself in a reverie of a 
somewhat painful nature. She would wake 
from these fits of inattention with an obvious 
start and a heightened colour. I found she 
was to be my companion at dinner, and soon 
discovered that hers was An interesting, 
indeed, delightful, personality. She knew 
the world and could talk well. Our conversa- 
tion presently drifted to the great subject of 
the hour, Sir John Winton's colt, Ajax. 

" He is a beauty," cried the girl. " I love 
him for himself, as who would not who had 
ever seen him ? — but if he wins the Derby, 

why, then, my gratitude " she paused and 

clasped her hands, then drew herself up, 

"Are you very much interested in the 
result of the race ? " I could not help asking. 

"All my future turns on it," she said, 
dropping her voice to a low whisper. " I 
think," she continued, " Mr. Dufrayer intends 
to confide in you. I know something about 
you, Mr. Head, for Mr. Dufrayer has told 
me. I am so glad to meet you. I cannot 
say any more now, but my position is one of 
great anxiety." 

Her words somewhat surprised me, but I 
could not question her further at that moment 
Later on, however, when we returned to the 
drawing-room, I approached her side. She 
looked up eagerly when she saw me. 

" I have been all over Europe this 
summer," she said, gaily ; "don't you want to 
see some of my photographs ? " 

She motioned me to a seat near her side, 
and taking up a book opened it. We bent 
over the photographs ; she turned the pages, 
talking eagerly. Suddenly she put her hand 
to her brow, and her face turned deadly pale. 

" What is the matter ? " I asked. 

She did not speak for a moment, but I 
noticed that the moisture stood on her fore- 
head. Presently she gave a sigh of relief. 

" It has passed," she said. " Yes, I suffer 
an indescribable agony in my head, but it 
does not last now more than a moment or 
two. At one time the pain used to stay for 
nearly an hour, and I was almost crazy at the 
end. I have had these sharp sort of neuralgic 





'OK CUl'fcStt YOU HAVE HKAkl? OF MBit. 

pains from a child, hut since I have consulted 
Mmt Koluchy n 

I started. She looked up at me and 

"Of course you have heard of her;" she 
said ; M who has not ? She is quite the most 
wonderful, delightful woman in exist en re. 
She, indeed, is a doctor to have confidence in, 
I understand that the men of the profession 
are mad with jealousy, and small wonder, her 
cures are so marvellous. Yes, Mr. Head, I 
went to quite half-a-dozen of our greatest 
doctors, and they could do nothing for me ; 
but since I have been to Mme< Koluchy the 
pain comes but seldom, and when it does 
arise from any cause it quickly subsides. I 
have much to thank her for. Have you ever 
seen her ? " 

"Yes/ 1 I replied, 

"And don't you like her?' continued the 
girl, eagerly. "Is she not beautiful, the most 
beautiful woman in the world ? Perhaps you 
have consulted her for your health ; she has 

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a great many men 

I made no 
reply ; Miss Can 
continued to 
speak with great 

" It is not only 
her beauty which 
impresses one/ 1 
she said, ** it is 
also her power- 
she draws you out 
of yourself com- 
pletely. When I 
am away from her 
I must confess I 
am restless— it is 
as though she hyp- 
notized me, and 
yet she has never 
done so. I long 
to go back to her 

even when " 

she hesitated and 
trembled. Some- 
one came up, and 
co m in o n p lace 
subjects of con- 
versation resumed 
their sway. 

That evening 
late I joined l)u> 
frayerin the smok- 
ing -room. We 
found ourselves 
alone, and I began to speak at once, 

" You asked me to come here for a pur- 
pose/' I said, " Miss Carr, the girl whom I 
took in to dinner, further told me that you 
had something to communicate, What is 
the matter ? " 

"Sit down, Head, I have much to tell you,"' 
"By the way," I continued, as I sank into 
the nearest chair, "do you know that Miss Carr 
is under the influence of Mme. Koluchy?" 

(t I know it, and before I go any further, 
tell rne what you think of her/' 

"She is a handsome girl," 1 replied, "and 
I should say a good one, but she seems to 
have trouble She hinted at such, and in 
any case I observed it in her face and 

"You are right, she is suffering from a 
very considerable anxiety. I will explain 
all that to you presently. Now, please, give 
your best attention to the following details. 
It is about a month ago that I first received 
a visit from Frank Calthorpe, Sir John 
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Winton's nephew, and the junior partner of 
Bruce, Nicholson, and Calthorpe, the great 
stockjobbers in Garrick Gardens. I did some 
legal business for his firm some years ago, but 
the matter on which Calthorpe came to see 
•me was not one connected with his business, 
but of a purely private character." 

" Am I to hear what it is ? " 

" You are, and the first piece of information 
I mean to impart to you is the following. 
Frank Calthorpe is engaged to Miss Cam" 

" Indeed ! " 

" The engagement is of three months' 

44 When are they to be married ? " 

" That altogether depends on whether Sir 
John Winton's favourite, Ajax, wins the 
Derby or not." 

" What do you mean ? " 

" To explain, I must tell you something of 
Miss Carr's early history." . 

I sat back in my chair and prepared to 
listen. Dufrayer spoke slowly. 

" About a year ago," he began, "Alison 
Carr lost her father. She was then eighteen 
years of age, and still at school. Her 
mother died when she was five years old. 
The father was a West Indian merchant, 
and had made his money slowly and with 
care. When he died he left a hundred 
thousand pounds behind him and aji 
extraordinary will. The girl whom you 
met to-night was his only child. Henry 
Carr, Alison's father, had a brother, Felix 
Carr, a clergyman. In his will Henry 
made his brother Alison's sole guardian, 
and also his own residuary legatee. The 
interest of the hundred thousand pounds was 
to be devoted altogether to the girl's benefit, 
but the capital was only to come into her 
possession on certain conditions. She was 
to live with her uncle, and receive the interest 
of the money as long as she remained single. 
After the death of the uncle she was still, 
provided she was unmarried, to receive the 
interest during her lifetime. At her death 
the property was to go to Felix Carr's eldest 
son, or, in case he was dead, to his children. 
Provided, however, Alison married according 
to the conditions of the will, the whole of the 
hundred thousand pounds was to be settled 
on her and her children. The conditions 
were as follows : — 

" The man who married Alison was to 
settle a similar sum of one hundred thousand 
upon her and her children, and he was also 
to add the name of Carr to his own. Failing 
the fulfilment of these two conditions, Alison, 
if she married, was to lose the interest and 


capital of her father's fortune, the whole 
going to Felix Carr for his life, and after him 
to his eldest son. On this point, the girl's 
father seems to have had a crank — he was 
often heard to say that he did not intend to 
amass gold in order to provide luxuries for a 

"'Let the man who marries Alison put 
pound to pound,' he would cry ; c that's fair 
enough, otherwise the money goes to my 

" Since her fathers death, Alison has had 
one or two proposals from elderly men of 
great wealth, bpt she naturally would not 
consider them. ." When she became engaged, 
however, to Calthorpe, he had every hope 
that he would be able to fulfil the strange 
conditions of the will and meet her" fortune 
with an equal sum on his own account. The 
engagement is now of three months' date, 
and here comes the extraordinary part of the 
story. Calthorpe, like most of his kind, is a 
speculator, and has large dealings both in 
stocks and shares and on the turf. He is a 
keen sportsman. 

" Now, pray, listen. Hitherto he has 
always been remarkable for his luck, which 
has been, of course, as much due to his own 
common sense as anything else ; but since 
his engagement to Miss Carr his financial 
ventures have been so persistently disastrous,, 
and his losses so heavy, that he is practically 
now on the verge of ruin. Several most 
remarkable and unaccountable things have 
happened recently, and it is now almost 
certain that someone with great resources 
has been using his influence against him. 
You will naturally say that the person whose 
object it would be to do so is Felix 
Carr, but beyond the vaguest suspicion 
there is not the slightest evidence against 
him. He has been interested in the engage- 
ment from the first, and preparations have 
even been made for the wedding. It is true 
that Alison does not like him, and resents 
very much jthe clause in the will which com- 
pels her to live with him ; but as far as we 
can tell, he has always been systematically 
kind to her, and takes the deepest interest in 
Calthorpe's affairs. Day by day, however, 
these affairs grow worse. 

" About a fortnight ago, Calthorpe actually 
discovered that shares were being held against 
him on which he was paying enormous ■ 
differences, and had finally to buy them back 
at tremendous loss. The business was done 
through a broker, but the identity of his 
client is a mystery. We now come to his 
present position, which is a most crucial one, 




Next Wednesday is the Derby Day, and 
Calthorpe hopes to retrieve his losses by a 
big coup, as he has backed Ajax at an average 
price of five to two in order to win one 
hundred thousand on the horse alone. He 
has been quietly getting his money on during 
the last two months through a lot of different 
commission agents. If he secures this big 
price he will be in a position to marry Alison, 
and his difficulties will be at an end. If, on 
the other hand, the horse is beaten, Calthorpe 
is mined." 

" What are the chances for the horse ? " I 

u As far as I can tell, they are splendid. 
He is a magnificent creature, a bay colt with 
black points, and comes of a splendid stock. 
His grandsire was Colonel GillinghanVs 
Trumpeter, who was the champion of his 
year, winning the Derby, the Two Thousand 
Guineas, and St, Leger. There is not a 
three-y ear-old with such a fashionable ancestry 
as Ajax, and Sir John Winton is confident 
that he will follow thur glorious record." 

" Have you any reason to suspect Mme. 
Koluchy in this matter ? " I asked. 

"None. Without doubt Calthorpe pos- 
sesses an enemy, but who that enemy is 
remains to be discovered. His natural enemy 
would be Felix Carr, but to all appearance 
the man has not moved a finger against him. 
Felix is well off, too, on his own account, 
and it is scarcely fair to suspect him of the 
wish to deliberately ruin his niece's prospects 
and her happiness. On the other hand, such 
a series of disasters could not happen to 
Calthorpe without a cause, and we have got 
to face that fact. Mme. Koluchy would, of 
course, be capable of doing the business, but 
we cannot find that Felix Carr even knows 

t( His niece does,* 1 I cried, "She consults 
her — she is under her care." 

" I know that, and have followed up the 
clue very carefully/ 3 said Dufrayer. "Of 
course, the fact that Alison visits her two or 
three times a week, and in all probability 
confides in her fully> makes it all-important 



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Original from 



to watch her carefully. That fact, with the 
history which you have unfolded of Mine. 
Koluchy, makes it essential that we should 
take her into our calculations, but up to the 
present there is not a breath of suspicion 
against her. All turns on the Derby. If 
Ajax wins, whoever the person is who is 
Calthorpe's secret enemy, will have his foul 
purpose defeated." 

Early the following morning, Sir John Win- 
ton took Dufrayer and myself to the training 
stables. Miss Carr accompanied us. The 
colt was brought out for inspection, and I had 
seldom seen a more magnificent animal. He 
was, as Dufrayer had described him, a bright 
bay with black points. His broad forehead, 
brilliant eyes, black muzzle, and expanded 
nostrils proclaimed the Arab in his blood, while 
the long, light body, with the elongated limbs, 
were essentiallyadapted for the maximum de- 
velopment of speed. As the spirited creature 
curveted and pranced before us, our admira- 
tion could scarcely be kept in bounds. 
Miss Carr in particular was almost feverishly 
excited. She went up to the horse and 
patted him on his forehead. I heard her 
murmur something low into his ear. The 
creature turned his large and beautiful eye 
upon her as if he understood ; he further 
responded to the girl's caress by pushing his 
nose forward for her to stroke. 

" I have no doubt whatever of the result," 
said Sir John Winton, as he walked round 
and round the animal, examining his points 
and emphasizing his perfections. " If Ajax 
does not win the Derby, I shall never believe 
in a horse again." He then spoke in a low 
tone to the trainer, who nodded ; the horse 
was led back to his stables, and we returned 
to the house. 

As we crossed the Downs I found myself 
by Miss Carr's side. 

" Yes," she exclaimed, looking up at me, 
her eyes sparkling, "Ajax is safe to win. Has 
Mr. Dufrayer confided in you, Mr. Head?'' 

"He has," I answered. 

" Do you understand my great anxiety ? " 

" I do, but I think you may rest assured. 
If I am any judge of a horse, the favourite is 
sure to win the race." 

"I wish Frank could hear you," she cried ; 
" he is terribly nervous. He has had such a 
queer succession of misfortunes. Of course, 
I would marry him gladly, and will, without 
any fortune, if the worst comes to the worst ; 
but there will be no worst," she continued, 
brightly, " for Ajax will save us both." Here 
she paused, and pulled out her watch. 

11 1 did not know it was so late," she 


exclaimed. "I have an appointment with 
Mme. Koluchy this morning. I must ask 
Sir John to send me to the station at once." 

She hurried forward to speak to the old 
gentleman, and Dufrayer and I fell behind. 

Soon afterwards we all returned to London, 
and on the following Monday I received a 
telegram from Dufrayer. 

"Come to dinner — seven o'clock. Im- 
portant," was his brief message. 

I responded in the affirmative, and at the 
right hour drove off to Dufrayer's flat in 
Shaftesbury Avenue, arriving punctual to the 

"I have asked Calthorpe to meet you," 
exclaimed Dufrayer, coming forward when I 
appeared ; " his ill-luck dogs him closely. If 
the horse loses he is absolutely ruined. His 
concealed enemy becomes more active as the 
crucial hour approaches. Ah, here he comes 
to speak for himself." 

The door was thrown open, and Calthorpe 
was announced. Dufrayer introduced him 
to me, and the next moment we went into the 
dining-room. I watched him with interest. 
He was a fair man, somewhat slight in 
build, with a long, thin face and a heavy 
moustache. He wore a worried and anxious 
look painful to witness ; his age must have 
been about twenty-eight years. During dinner 
he looked across at me several times with an 
expression of the most intense curiosity, and 
as soon as the meal had come to an end, 
turned the conversation to the topic that was 
uppermost in all our minds. 

" Dufrayer has told me all about you, Mr. 
Head ; you are in his confidence, and there- 
fore in mine." 

" Be assured of my keen interest," I 

answered. " I know how much you have 

staked on the favourite. I saw the colt on 

. Saturday. He is a magnificent creature, and I 

should say is safe to win, that is " I paused, 

and looked full into the young man's face. 
" Would it not be possible for you to hedge on 
the most advantageous terms?" I suggested. 
" I see the price to-night is five to four on.'' 

" Yes, and I should stand to win about 
^30,000 either way, if I could negotiate the 
transaction, but that would not effect my pur- 
pose. You have heard, I know, from Dufrayer, 
all about my engagement, and the strange 
conditions of old Carr's will. There is no 
doubt that I possess a concealed enemy, 
whose object is to ruin me ; but if Ajax wins 
I could obtain sufficient credit to right myself, 
and also to fulfil the conditions of Carr's will. 
Yes, I will stand to it now, every penny. 
The horse can win, and by Heaven he shall !" 




As he spoke Calthorpe brought down his 
fist with a Mow on the table that set the 
glasses dancing, A glance was sufficient to 
show that his nerves were strung up to the 
highest pitch, and that a little more excite- 
ment would make him scarcely answerable 
for his actions. 

** I have already given you my advice in 
this matter," said Dufrayer, in a grave tone. 

wait for you. If, on the other hand, you 
lose, all is lost. It is the ancient adage, * A 
bird in the hand.' " 

"It would be a dead crow," he interrupted, 
excitedly, "and I want a golden eagle." Two 
hectic spots burned on his pale cheeks, and 
the glitter m his eyes showed how keen was 
the excitement which consumed him. 

" I saw my uncle this morning," he went on. 





He turned and faced the young man as he 
spoke. "I would say emphatically, choose 
the certain game now, and get out of it. 
You have plunged far too heavily in this 
matter, As to your present run of ill-luck, 
it will turn, depend upon it, and is only a 
question of time. If you hedge now you will 
have to put off your marriage, that is all In 
the long run you will be able to fulfil the 
strange conditions which Carr has enjoined 
on his daughter's future husband, and if I 
know Alison aright, she will be willing to 

Digitized by GoOglc 

"Of course, Sir John knows my position 
well, and there is no expense spared to guard 
and watch the horse. He is never left day 
or night by old and trusted grooms in the 
training stables Whoever my enemy may 
be, I defy him to tamper with the horse. Hy 
the way, you must come down to see the 
race, Dufrayer ; I insist upon it, and yon roo, 
Mr. Head. Yes, I should like you both to 
be there in the hour of my great success, I 
saw Rushton, the trainer, to-day T and he says 
the race is all over, bar shouting. ' 

Original from 



This was Monday night, and the following 
Wednesday was Derby Day. On the next 
evening, impelled by an uncontrollable desire 
to see Calthorpe, I called a hansom and 
gave the driver the name of his club. I felt 
certain that I should find him there. When 
I arrived the porter told me that he was in the 
house, and sending up my card, I went across 
to the tape machine, which was ticking away 
under its glass case in the hall. Two or 
three men were standing beside it, chatting. 
The Derby prices had just come through, 
and a page-boy was tearing the tape into 
lengths, and pinning them on to a green 
baize board in the hall. I glanced hurriedly" 
through them. Evens Ajax, four to one 
Bright Star, eleven to two The Midge, eight 
to one Day Dawn. I felt a hand on my 
shoulder, and Calthorpe stood beside me. I 
was startled at his appearance. There was a 
haggard, wild look in his eyes. 

" It seems to be all right," I said, cheer- 
fully. "I see Ajax has gone off a point 
since this morning, but I suppose that means 

" Oh, nothing," he replied ; " there has 
been a pot of money going on Bright Star 
all day, but the favourite can hold the field 
from start to finish. I saw him this morning, 
and he is as fit as possible. Rushton, the 
trainer, says he absolutely can't lose." 

A small, dark man in evening dress 
approached us and overheard Calthorpe's 
last remark. 

" I'll have a level monkey about that, if you 
like, Mr. Calthorpe," he said, in a low, nasal 

"It's a wager," retorted Calthorpe, draw- 
ing out his pocket-book with silver- bound 
edges, and entering the bet. " I'll make it a 
thousand, if you like? " he added, looking up. 

"With pleasure," cried the little man. 
" Does your friend fancy anything ? " 

" No, thank you," I replied. 

The man turned away, and went back to 
his companions. 

"Who is that fellow?" I asked of 

" Oh, a very decent little chap. He's on 
the Stock Exchange, and makes a pretty big 
book on his own account." 

" So I should think," I replied. "Why do 
you suppose he wants to lay against Ajax? " 

" Hedging, I should imagine," answered 
Calthorpe, carelessly. "One thousand one 
way or the other cannot make any difference 

He had scarcely said the words before 
Dufrayer entered the hall. 

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11 1 have been looking for you, Head," he 
said, just nodding to Calthorpe as he spoke, 
and coming up to my side. " I went to your 
house and heard you were here, and hoped I 
should run you to earth. I want to speak to 
you. Can you come with me ? " 

"Anything wrong?" asked Calthorpe, 

"I hope not," replied Dufrayer, "but I 
want to have a word with Head. I will see 
you presently, Calthorpe." 

He linked his hand through my arm, and 
we left the club. 

" What is it ? " I asked, the moment we 
got into the street 

" I want you to come to my flat. Miss 
Carr is there, and she wishes to see you." 

" Miss Carr at your flat, and she wishes to 
see me ? " 

" She does. You will soon know all about 
it, Head. Here, let us get into this hansom." 

He hailed one which was passing ; we got 
into it and drove quickly to Shaftesbury 
Averfue. Dufrayer let himself into his rooms 
with a latchkey, and the next moment I found 
myself in Alison's presence. She started up 
when she saw the lawyer and myself. 

" Now, Miss Carr," said Dufrayer, shutting 
the door hastily, " we have not a moment to 
lose. Will you kindly repeat the story to 
Mr. Head which you have just told me?" 

" But is there anything to be really 
frightened about ? " she asked. 

" I do not know of anyone who can judge 
of that better than Mr. Head. Tell him 
everything, please, and at once." 

Thus adjured, the girl began to speak. 

" I went as usual to Mme. Koluchy this 
afternoon," she began ; " her treatment does 
me a great deal of good. She was even 
kinder than usual. I believe her to be 
possessed of a sort of second sight. When she 
assured me that Ajax would win the Derby, 
I felt so happy that I laughed in my glee. 
She knows, no one better, how much this 
means to me. I was just about to leave her 
when the door of the consulting-room was 
opened, and who should appear standing on 
the threshold but my uncle, the Rev. Felix 
Carr ! »There is no love lost between my 
uncle and myself, and I could not help 
uttering a cry, half of fear and half of 
astonishment. I could see that he was 
equally startled at seeing me. 

" l What in the name of fortune has brought 
you to Mme. Koluchy ? ' he cried. 

" Madame rose in her usual stately way and 
went forward to meet him. 

" ' Your niece, Alison, is quite an old 
Original from 




patient of mine/ she said ; ' but did you 
not receive my telegram ? ' 

tlc No; I left home before it arrived,' he 
answered, ( The pains grew worse, and I 
felt 1 must see you. I have taken a horrible 
cold on the journey/ As he spoke he took 
his handkerchief out of his pocket, and 
sneezed several times. He continued to 
stand on the threshold of the room. 

11 'Well, good-bye, Alison, keep up your 
courage/ cried Mme. Koluchy. She kissed 
me on my forehead and I left. Uncle Felix 
did not take any further notice of me, The 
moment I went 
out, the door of 
the consulting- 
room was closed, 
and the first thing 
I saw in the cor- 
ridor was a torn 
piece of letter. It 
lay on the floor, 
and must have 
dropped out of 
Uncle Felix's 
pocket. I recog- 
nised the handwrit- 
ing to be that of 
Mme. Koluchy's, 
I picked it up, 
and these words 
met my eyes: 
L Innocuous to man^ 
but fatal to thz 
horse? I could not 
read any further, 
as the letter was 
torn across and the 
other half not in 
my possession, but 
the words fright- 
ened me, although 
I did not under- 
stand them. I be- 
came possessed 
with a dreadful 
sense of depres- 
sion. I hurried out 
of the house, I 
was so much at 

home with Mme 4t| |,]ckfiTl * T v ? 

Koluchy that 

I could go in and out much as I pleased. 
I drove straight to see you, Mr. Dufrayer* 
I hoped you would set my terrors at rest, 
for surely Ajax cannot be the horse alluded 
to. The words haunt me, but there is 
nothing in them, is there? Please tell me so, 
Mr. Head — please allay my fears." 

VoL xv -19. 

by Google 

" May I see the torn piece of paper ? " I 
asked, gravely. 

The girl took it out of her pocket and 
handed it to me. 

t£ You don't mind if I keep this ? " I said. 
" No, certainly ; but is there any cause for 
alarm ? 3 

il I hope none, but you did well to consult 
Dufrayer. Now, I have something to ask 
"What is that?" 

" Do not repeat what you were good enough 
to tell Dufrayer and me, to Calthorpe," 

"Why so?" 
If Because it 
would give him 
needless anxiety* 
I am going to take 
the matter up, and 

I trust all will be 
well. Keep your 
own counsel ; do 
not tell what you 
have just told us 
to another living 

h soul, and now I 
must ask you to 
leave us." 

Her face grew 
whiter than ever ; 
her anxious eyes 
travelled from my 
face to Dufrayer's* 

*'I will see you 
to a hansom," I 
said. I took her 
downstairs, put her 
into one, and 
returned to the 
lawyer's presence, 

" I am glad you 
sent for me, Du- 
frayer,'* I answered. 

II Don't you see 
how grave all this 
is? If Ajax wins 
the Derby, the 
Rev, Felix Carr- 
I know nothing 
about his character, 
remember will 
lose the interest 

on one hundred thousand pounds, and the 
further chance of the capital being secured 
to his son. You see that it would he very 
much to the interest of the Rev. Felix if 
Ajax loses the Derby. Then why does he 
consult Mme. Koluchy? The question of 
health is surely a mere blind, I confers I do 

Original from 




not like the aspect of affairs at all That 
woman has science at her fingers' ends. I 
shall go down immediately to Epsom and 
insist on Sir John Winton allowing me to 
spend the night in the training stables." 

" I believe you are doing the right thing," 
answered Dufrayer. " You, who know Mme. 
Koluchy well, are armed at a thousand 

" I shall start at once," I said. 

I bade Dufrayer good-bye, hailed a 
hansom, desired the man to drive me to 
Victoria Station, and took the next train to 

I arrived at Sir John's house about ten 
o'clock. He was astonished to see me, and 
when I begged his permission to share the 
company of the groom in the training stables 
that night, he seemed inclined to resent my 
intrusion. I did not wish to betray Alison, but 
I repeated my request with great firmness. 

" I have a grave reason for making it," I 
said, " but one which at the present moment 
it is best for me not to disclose. Much 
depends on this race. From the events 
which have recently transpired, there is little 
doubt that Calthorpe has a secret enemy. 
Forewarned is forearmed. Will you share 
my watch to-night in the training stables, 
Sir John?" 

II Certainly," he answered. " I do not see 
that you have any cause for alarm, but under 
the circumstances, and in the face of the mad 
way that nephew of mine has plunged, I 
cannot but accede to your request We will 
go together." 

We started to walk across the Downs. As 
we did so, Sir John became somewhat 

"I thought Alison would have come by 
your train," he said, " but have just had a 
telegram asking me not to expect her. She 
is probably spending to-night with Mme. 
Koluchy. By the way, Head, what a charm- 
ing woman that is." 

«Do you know her?" I asked. 

" She was down here on Sunday. Alison 
begged me to invite her. We all enjoyed her 
company immensely. She has a wonderful 
knowledge of horses ; in fact, she seems to 
know all about everything." 

" Has she seen Ajax ? " I asked. My heart 
sank, I could not tell why. 

" Yes, I took her to the stables. She was 
interested in all the horses, and above all in 
Ajax. She is certain he will win the Derby." 

I said nothing further. We arrived at the 
stables. Sir John and I spent a wakeful 
night. Early in the morning I asked to be 

by Google 

allowed to examine the colt. He appeared 
in excellent condition, and the groom stood 
by him, admiring him, praising his points, 
and speaking about the certain result of the 
day's race. 

" Here's the Derby winner," he said, 
clapping Ajax on his glossy side. " He'll win 
the race by a good three lengths. By the way, 
I hope he won't be off his feed this morning." 

" Off his feed ! " exclaimed Sir John. 
" What do you mean ? " 

" What I say, sir. We couldn't get the colt 
to touch his food last night, although we 
tempted him with all kinds of things. There 
ain't nothing in it, I know, and he seems all 
right now, don't he ? " 

" Try him with a carrot," said Sir John. 

The man brought a carrot and offered it 
to the creature. He turned away from it, 
and fixed his large, bright eyes on Sir John's 
face. I fancied there was suffering in them. 
Sir John seemed to share my fears. He 
went up to the horse and examined it critically, 
feeling the nose and ears. 

"Tell Saunders to step across," he said, 
turning to the groom. He mentioned a 
veterinary surgeon who lived close by. " And 
look you here, Dan, keep your own counsel. 
If so much as a word of this gets out, you 
may do untold mischief." 

" No fear of me, sir," said the man. He 
rushed off to fetch Saunders, who soon 

The veterinary surgeon was a thickly built 
man, with an intelligent face. He examined 
the horse carefully, taking his temperature, 
feeling him all over, and finally stepping back 
with a satisfied smile. 

"There's nothing to be alarmed about, 
Sir John," he said. " The colt is in perfect 
health. Let him have a mash presently with 
some crushed corn in it. I'll look in in a 
couple of hours, but there's nothing wrong. 
He is as fit as possible." 

As the man left the stables, Sir John 
uttered a profound yawn. 

" I confess I had a moment's fright," he 
said ; " but I believe it was more from your 
manner than anything else, Mr. Head. Well, 
I am sleepy. Won't you come back to the 
house, and let me offer you a shake-down ? " 

" No," I replied, " I want to return to town. 
I can catch an early train if I start at once." 

He shook hands with me, and I went to the 
railway station. The oppression and appre- 
hension at my heart got worse moment by 
moment. For what object had Mme. Koluchy 
visited the stables ? What was the meaning 
of that mysterious writing which I had in my 

Original from 




pocket ? li Innocuous to man, but fatal to the 
horse," What did the woman, with her 
devilish ingenuity, mean to do? Something 
bad, I had not the slightest doubt, 

I called at Dufrayer's flat and gave him an 
account of the night's proceedings. 

"1 don't like the aspect of affairs, but 
God grant my fears are groundless," I cried. 
u The horse is off his feed, but Sir John and 
the vet are both assured there is nothing 
whatever the matter with him. Mmt\ 
Koluchy was in the stables on Sunday ; but, 
after all, what could she do ? We must keep 
the thing dark from Calthorpe, and trust for 
the best" 

At a quarter to twelve that day I found 
myself at Victoria. When I arrived on the 
platform I saw Calthorpe and Miss Carr 
coming to meet me, Dufrayer also a moment 
afterwards made his appearance. Miss Carr's 

by Google 

eyes were full of question, and I avoided her as 
much as possible. Calthorpe, on the contrary, 
seemed to have recovered a good bit of nerve, 
and to be in a sanguine mood. We took 
our seats, and the train started for Epsom. 
As we alighted at the Downs station, a man 
in livery hurried up to Calthorpe. 

H Sir John Winton is in the paddock, sir," 
he said, touching his hat " He sent me to 
you, and says he wishes to see you at once, 
sir, and also Mr Head." 

The man spoke breathlessly, and seemed 
very much excited. 

'* Very well j tell him well both come," 
replied Calthorpe, He turned to Dufrayer. 
" Will you take charge of Alison ? " he said, 

Calthorpe and I moved off at once. 

"What can be the matter?" cried the 
young man. " Nothing wrong, I hope. What 
is that ? " he cried the next instant. 
Original from 




The enormous crowd was increasing 
moment by moment, and the din that rose 
from Tattersairs ring seemed to me unusually 
loud so early in the day's proceedings. As 
Calthorpe uttered the last words he started 
and his face turned white. 

^Good heavens ! Did 
he cried, dashing forward, 
quickly, the ring was 

you hear that ? " 

I followed him 

buzzing like 


deafening clamour of the crowd, the air 
seemed to swell with the uproar. Were my 
worst fears confirmed ? I felt stunned and 
sick, I turned round ; Calthorpe had 

Several smart drags were drawn up beside 
the railings, I glanced up at the occupants 
of the one beside me. Upon the box-seat, 
looking down at me wiih the amused smile 


infuriated beehive, and the men in it were 
hurrying to and fro as if possessed by the 
very madness of excitement. It was an 
absolute pandemonium. The stentorian 
tones of a brass-voiced bookmaker close 
beside us fell on my ears : — 

" Here, I'll bet five to one Ajax — five to 
one Ajax l n 

The voice was suddenly drowned in the 

Digitized by G< 

of a spectator, sat Mme. Koluchy. As I 
caught her eyes I thought I detected a flash 
of triumph, but the next moment she smiled 
and bowed gracefully. 

" You are a true Englishman, Mr, Head/' 
she said. " Even your infatuated devotion to 
your scientific pursuits cannot restrain you 
from attending your characteristic national 
fete. Can you tell me what has happened ? 




Those men seem to have suddenly gone mad 
— is that a part of the programme ? " 

il Innocuous to man, but fatal to the horse," 
was my strange reply* I looked her full in 
the face. The long lashes covered her 
brilliant eyes for one flashing moment, then 
she smiled at me more serenely than even 

" I will guess your enigma when the Derby 
is won," she said, 

I raised my hat and hurried away, I had 
seen enough : suspicion was changed into 
certainty. The next moment I reached the 
paddock. I saw Calthorpe engaged in 
earnest conversation with his uncle, 

M It's all up, Head," he said, when he saw 

"Don't be an idiot, Frank," cried Sir 
John Winton, angrily. " I tell you the thing is 
impossible, I don't believe there is any- 
thing the matter with the horse, Let the 
ring play their own game, it is nothing to 
us. Curse the market ! I tell you what it 
is, Frank. When you plunged as you did, you 
would deserve it if the horse fell dead on the 
course ; but he won't— he'll win by three 
lengths. There's not another horse in the 

Calthorpe muttered some inaudible reply 
and turned away. I accom- 
panied him, 

" What is the matter?" 
I asked, as we left the 

" Saunders is not satis- 
fied with the state of the 
horse. His temperature 
has gone up \ but, there, 
my uncle will see nothing 
wrong. Well, it will be all 
over" soon, For Heaven's 
sake, don't let us say any- 
thing to Alison." 

"Nut it word, 1 " I replied. 

We reached the grand 
stand. Alison's earnest 
and apprehensive eyes 
travelled from her lover's 
face to mine. Calthorpe 
went up to her and en- 
deavoured to speak cheer- 

i£ I believe it's all rigbC 
he said, w Sir John says 
so, and he ought to know. 
It will be all decided one 
way or another soon. 
Look, the first race is 

We watched it, and the 

Digitized by 

one that followed, hardly caring to know 
the name of the winner. The Derby was 
timed for three o'clock — it only wanted three 
minutes to the hour. The ring below was 
seething with excitement Calthorpe was 
silent now, gazing over the course with the 
vacant expression of a man in a day-dream* 

Bright Star was a hot favourite at even 

11 Against Ajax, five to one, 57 rang out with 
a monotonous insistence, 

There was a sudden lull, the flag had fallen. 
The moments that ., followed seemed like 
years of pain — there was much senseless 
cheering and shouting, a flash of bright 
colours, and the race was oven Bright Star 
had won. Ajax had been pulled up at 
Tattenham Corner, and was being led by his 

Twenty minutes later Dufrayer and I were 
in the horse's stable. 

"Will you allow me to examine the horse 
for a moment?" I said, to the veterinary 

"It will want some experience to make out 
what is the matter," replied Saunders ; w it's 
beyond me." 

I entered the box and examined the colt 



Original frofTf 



carefully. As I did so the meaning of Mme. 
Koluchy's words became plain. Too late 
now to do anything— the race was lost and the 
horse was doomed. I looked around me. 

" Has anyone been bitten in this stable ? " 
I asked. 

" Bitten ! " cried one of the grooms. " Why, 
I said to Sam last night " — he apostrophized 
the stable-boy — "that there must be gnats 
about See my arm, it's all inflamed." 

"Hold !" I cried, "what is that on your 
sleeve ? " 

" A house-fly, I suppose, sir," he answered. 

" Stand still," I cried. I put out my hand 
and captured the fly. " Give me a glass," I 
said. " I must examine this." 

One was brought and the fly put under it. 
I looked at it carefully. It resembled the 
ordinary house-fly, except that the wings were 
longer. Its colour was like that of an 
ordinary humming-bee. 

" I killed a fly like that this morning," said 
Sam, the stable-boy, pushing his head forward. 

" When did you say you were first bitten ? " 
I asked, turning to the groom. 

" A day or two ago," he replied. " I was 
bitten by a gnat, I don't rightly know the 
time. Sam, you was bitten too. We couldn't 
catch it, and we wondered that gnats should 
be about so early in the year. It has nothing 
to do with the horse, has it, sir ? " 

I motioned to the veterinary surgeon to 
come forward, and once more we examined 
Ajax. He now showed serious and un- 
mistakable signs of malaise. 

"Can you make anything out?" asked 

"With this fly before me, there is little 
doubt," I replied ; " the horse will be dead 
in ten days — nothing can save him. He has 
been bitten by the tsetse fly of South 
Africa — I know it only too well." 

My news fell on the bystanders like a 

" Innocuous to man, but fatal to the horse," 
I found myself repeating. The knowledge 
of this fact had been taken advantage of — the 
devilish ingenuity of the plot was revealed. 
In all probability Mme. Koluchy had herself 
let the winged assassin loose when she had 
entered the stables on Sunday. The plot 
was worthy of her brain, and hers alone. 

" You had better look after the other 
horses," I said, turning to the grooms. " If 
they have not been bitten already they had 
better be removed from the stables imme- 
diately. As for Ajax, he is doomed." 

Late that evening Dufrayer dined with me 
alone. Pity for Calthorpe was only exceeded 
by our indignation and almost fear of Mme. 

" What is to happen ? " asked Dufrayer. 

"Calthorpe is a brave man and will 
recover," I said. "He will win Miss Carr 
yet. I am rich, and I mean to help him, 
if for no other reason in order to defeat 
that woman." 

"By the way," said Dufrayer, "that scrap 
of paper which you hold in your possession, 
coupled with the fact that Mr. Carr called 
upon Mme. Koluchy, might induce a magis- 
trate to commit them both for conspiracy." 

" I doubt it," I replied ; " the risk is not 
worth running. If we failed, the woman would 
leave the country, to return again in more 
dangerous guise. No, Dufrayer, we must 
bide our time until we get such a case against 
her as will secure conviction without the least 

" At least," cried Dufrayer, "what happened 
to-day has shown me the truth of your words 
— it has also brought me to a decision. For 
the future I shall work with you, not as your 
employed legal adviser, but hand in hand 
against the horrible power and machinations 
of that woman. We will meet wit with wit, 
until we bring her to the justice she 

by Google 

Original from 

A Cruise on Wheels. 

By Geo. A, Best, 

HE dearth of good skaters in 
this country is obviously due 
to circumstances over which 
the sport-loving Briton can 
exercise no kind of control. 
Before the average skater has 
succeeded in attaining even a semblance of 
the "form" which distinguished his final 
efforts of the preceding winter, the first frost 
of a new season has vanished, and the 
succeeding visits of the ice-king are generally 
of so transitory a character that no marked 
improvement in style is possible. 

And although modern ingenuity has suc- 
ceeded in combating, to a certain extent, the 
defects of a fickle climate, there can be no 
comparison between mere rink in g (even on a 
veneer of artificially produced and unseason- 
able ice) and skating over an unlimited 
surface in the open air. 

The very nature of the sport is such 
that it cannot be enjoyed to the full 
within the narrow limits of four walls. 
Healthy and unre- 
stricted exercise in i^^^^^rz 
the open air is the 
first essential of 
every successful 
pastime. Without 
this, sport becomes 
in time a mere 
amusement ; and 
amusement which 
parodies sport is 
apt to pall after the 
novelty has worn 
off, until it is finally 
relegated to that 
dull land of bore- 
dom, from which 
few discarded pas- 
times can ever hope 
to return, 

As a "new sensa- 
tion " roller-skating 
established a record 
for instantaneous 
popularity which 
was only equalled 
by the phenomenal 
rapidity of its de- 
cline. While the 


From a Pko& by Itougla* Smith. Southend. 

"boom" was at its height there were few 
sceptics bold enough to prophesy that a re- 
action, at once so speedy and so complete, 
would follow the triumphant advent of the 
wheeled skate. But the inability of the tiny 
wheels to negotiate any but a specially prepared 
surface imposed upon the skaters a restriction 
which was quite foreign to the nature of the 
sport, and far from becoming a permanent 
pa st i me, ri n ki ng experie n ced a "slump" 
which was quite unprecedented, and is still 
unique, in the annals of nineteenth-century 
crazes and booms. 

But after many years of somnolence the 
wheeled skate has been resurrected in a 
new form and under another name, and a 
substitute for ice-skating introduced which 
is at least more practical and ingenious than 
its unfortunate predecessor 

In appearance the new road skates resemble 
nothing so much as a pair of miniature 
bicycles. The wheels are 6m, in diameter, 
and are attached to the boot on the "acme " 

principle. Jointed 
leg splints, extend- 
ing from the skate 
to the knee, relieve 
the ankles of a 
strain which would 
otherwise prove un- 
bearable ; and an 
automatic brake, 
acting upon the 
front wheel, in- 
stantly corrects any 
backward run, and 
consequently re- 
moves the greatest 
difficulty in hill- 
climbing. " Pneu- 
matics " have been 
discarded in favour 
of solid rubber 
tyres, as the exasper- 
ating defects of the 
former are naturally 
intensified in a tyre 
so small as to be im- 
mediately affected 
by even the smallest 
leakage. The skates 
vary in weight, 

by Google 

Original from 



Fram (i I'b-r... tu, A. r.'1-.-r ft, isf^M. 

from six lo eight pounds per pair, and this 
burden, although perhaps as light as is con- 
sistent with durability, is apt to make itself 
felt in a very decided manner during a pro- 
longed journey. The general and widespread 
interest evoked by my appearance on the by- 
ways of Essex, mounted on a pair of Hitter 
skates, induced me to undertake a more 
ambitious pioneering cruise, in the hope that 
a written account of my experiences might 
prove equally interesting and instructive. 

Every novelty in the way of locomotion is 
wont to fascinate its patrons when the initial 
discomforts and trials have been once over- 
come. In road-skating, as in every other 
pastime, these preliminary hardships are far 
from imaginary. Stiffness, soreness, and a 
feeling of irritability and humiliation follow 
rapidly in the wake of the beginners first 
lesson, Kut while his limbs are still aching, 
and the discouraging remarks of ploughboy 
critics are yet ringing in his ears, the fascina- 
tion of the new sensation asserts itsejf 
afresh; and the novice takes the mad again 
and again until his muscles gradually become 
accustomed to the exercise, and the critical 
remarks of the most prejudiced onlooker are 
tempered with a grudging approbation. 

Digitized by Google 

My first endeavours to acquire the graceful 
art of road-skating were distinctly grotesque, 
and afforded the keenest possible enjoyment 
to some dozens of interested spectators, I 
fell hard and often, and, when down, could 
only regain my feet by a series of com- 
plicated and spasmodic movements which 
left sundry strange diagrams engraven on 
the dust of the roadway, and kept my finger- 
tips busily employed for a period varying 
from fifteen to thirty seconds. But by the 
time I had learned to accomplish the whole 
of the feet-finding manoeuvre well within the 
fifteen seconds* limit, I had forgotten how to 
fall, and nothing short of a three-inch rut, or 
a macadam rock, would bring about a 
disaster likely to call my newly-acquired 
experience into practice. 

When I had skated over every fathom of 
roadway in my own neighbourhood, I became 
consumed with the desire to sail forth into 
the great world beyond. A cycling friend 
very kindly volunteered to act as bodyguard, 
and with the aid of a road- map of Essex, 
we traced out a thirty-five mile course, with 




bs A. Utydl, UfonL 





T H I Jt t> MO V EM EM T — COM F 1 ,IC ATIQN, 

dear, dirty Baiking as the probable starting- 
point, and Southendon-Sea as the desired 
destination. Our route 
Jay through the villages 
of Rainham, Stanford- 
le - Hope, Pitsea, and 
Hadleigh \ the roads 
were reported to be in 
fair condition, and the 
hills conspicuous only 
by their absence* 

An unkindly wind, 
which blew from the 
east with annoying per- 
sistency, delayed the 
expedition for three 
days ; but when, in 
response to our oft- 
repeated complaints, it 
met us half-way by veer- 
ing round to the south- 
east, we hastily collected 
our cycle, our skates, and 
our camera, and decided 
to steer as straight a 
course as possible for 
the land end of South- 
end pier, without any 
further delay. 

VnL xv -20. r-u • . 

Barking is noted chiefly for its un- 
picturesque creek, its rag-shops, and its 
untamed street gamin* The last-named 
speciality mustered in strong force as I 
rapidly adjusted my skates and in- 
dulged in a "preliminary canter, n 
while my bodyguard industriously 
oiled his bicycle on the opposite side 
of the roadway, in order to convey to 
the crowd the impression that he 
was in no way connected with the 

" A bicycle myde for two ! " ejacu- 
lated one of the untamed, surveying 
the skates critically out of the only 
serviceable corner of a black eye, 

" No, it's two bicycles made for 
one ! " was the smart rejoinder of a 
quick-witted companion. 

"Is this the Southend Road?" I 
asked, somewhat imperiously. 

The crowd laughed immoderately. 

" Sarthend, ho, yus ! Fust turn to 
the right, just rarnd the corner ! " cried 
a facetious urchin of the extreme 
Cockney type, " If you put yer brake 
on now, you'll avoid run n in* inter the 
sea when yer gits there I " 

My friend was already mounted by 
this time, and I followed him as rapidly 
as possible into the open country. The exer- 
tion was most exhilarating, and before we had 

a Pkito. b*\ 




\A. Ltifttt, il^J-J. 



From a Photo. 1« t Itougla* Smith, itoutkc nd r 

left Barking more than a mile behind, I had 
quite forgotten the unpleasant remarks which 
my unfortunate inquiry had elicited. But 
such an undesirable incident was scarcely 
likely to be repeated: rural wit is invariably 
less spontaneous and pointed^ and Barking is 
quite unique as a nursery for precocious 
infants. The wind, which had most 
aggravatingly veered round 
to the east again since we 
started, precluded any possi- 
bility of "scorching" or 
record-breaking, and the pace 
attained was consequently by 
no means sensational. 

On a long uphill stretch, 
some three or four miles out, 
I was considerably annoyed 
by my inability to escape the 
company of a strangely taci- 
turn pedestrian. I wished 
to impress this gentleman 
with the fact that walking, as 
a means of locomotion, was 
entirely out of date. So I 
overtook him at the foot of 
the hill, and for a hundred 
yards or so managed to main- 
tain a somewhat erratic lead. 
Then, while I rested for a 
moment to gain breath, he 

strode silently by with a supercilious air of 
condescension and pity which was distinctly 
exasperating. Visibly distressed, and breath- 
ing heavily, I again passed the sardonic 
stranger, only to be overtaken a few minutes 
later in the same humiliating way as before. 
When we were exchanging positions for the 
seventh or eighth time the silent one spoke* 
and the spell was broken. 

Lt (Jet off and w r alk ! " he ejaculated, con- 

"It's the wind, you know!" I explained, 
in disconnected gasps- "With a favourable 
breeze and a good road, I can cover ten 
miles well within the hour \ n 

But my undesirable companion was some 
yards ahead again by this time, and my 
explanation met with no audible response. 
A temporary lull in the breeze, however, and 
a mile of level roadway completely turned 
the tables in my favour; and when I over- 
took the unsympathetic stranger for the tenth 
(and last) time, I was gliding over the 
macadam at a speed which was probably 
greater than that attained at any other time 
during the journey. 

At Rainham, 1 discovered my truant body* 
guard waiting for me by the door of a 
typical Essex hostelry. My coming had 
been heralded by a local courier, mounted 
on an 1891 bicycle, who had overtaken 
me during the first stage of the journey; 
and in consequence of a weird announcement 
of this worthy to the effect that "a chap were 
a coin in' down the road with .a real bicycle 
fastened on each foot," I found a large crowd 

by Google 


l 1,1. SWING. 

Original from 

[Dmtffla* Smith, 




awaiting my advent. Several villainous-looking 
curs were also on the look-out for some mild 
excitement, and they greatly appreciated the 
novelty in calf- hunting which I most un- 
willingly provided. 

The good people of Rainham were 
obviously disappointed by the discovery 
that my t£ bicycles " were merely dwarfs ; but 
when I had skated twice round the village 
green, in order to escape the obnoxious 
attentions of an absurdly enthusiastic terrier, 
the villagers were unanimous in the opinion 
that road-skating, as an exciting pastime, had 
a great future before it. 

t( You done that well, mister, an' no 
mistake ! " exclaimed the local sage, approv- 
ingly, when I had lt jumped" the curb and 


Joined my friend in the bar -parlour of the 
hotel. "Bicycles I can't abide, nohow; but 
them things — well, I never did sue the likes, 
never ! I wonder that'll be brought out 
next ! We've got what Mother Shipton pre- 
dicted : carriages without 'orses, an '■ now 'eres 
a sample of real skatin 1 without ice ! Wonder- 
ful, that's what it is ; an 1 them as lives longest 
"It see most, for sure ! " 

'* Right yc are, Tommy," remarked another 
rural philosopher. u The older one grows 
the more one sees, an* that's the solemn 
truth ! I remember the first bicycle what 
come into Rainham well nigh thirty-five years 
ago. I ran out to see it just the same as our 
kids done to look at this gent to day, an' we 
never thought at that time that cycling would 
be took up by 'igh an ? by low as it 'as been. 

Digitized by G< 

I believe in thirty years' time nobody*ll 
walk at all ! Them as don't cycle will skate, 
an 1 them as don't do either will ride to 
market in motor -cars or flyin'- machines. 
Walkin' is on its last legs, sir ; it's too slow 
for the rising generation, though it was con- 
sidered to be a 'ealthy exercise in our time." 

We were strongly tempted to linger awhile 
in this quaint, old-world hamlet ; to interview 
its oldest inhabitant, commune with its wise 
men, and visit each of the numerous ancient 
hostelries which surround an ugly ragstone 
church, which is, perhaps, the least pictur- 
esque object of interest in the parish, Hut 
an utimelodious jingle,- emanating from the 
neighbourhood of the village clock, reminded 
us that some thirty miles of unexplored Essex 
roadway lay between Rain- 
ham and our destination; so 
we took the direction indi- 
cated by an immaculate 
finger-post, and sped silently 
through a wilderness of 
depressing marsh land, 
sparsely populated, and tim- 
bered with nothing more 
imposing than dwarf pollards 
and bracken. 

A straggling village bearing 
the euphonious name of 
Orsett was reached after an 
hour's toil on a raid abound- 
ing in ruts and gravel 
" breakers/' The natives of 
this place proved to be dis- 
tinctly disappointing from a 
journalistic point of view. 
Not a single inhabitant took 
the slightest notice of my 
movements. liven when 
I skated right into the bar- 
parlour of the only inn in the village, the 
landlord appeared to consider that skating 
inside licensed premises, and bumping heavily 
against public-house furniture, was in no way 
either a novel or an interesting performance, 
for, after attending to my modest require- 
ments, he became engrossed in the columns 
of Lloyd^s Newsy and ignored my presence 

The people of Orsett are obviously years 
ahead of the times in which they live ; and 
they have wisely decided amongst themselves 
that no modern innovation, however startling, 
shall he allowed to disturb the placidity of 
their everyday existence. A flying-machine 
hovering over this place would excite no 
more interest than an ordinary carrion crow ; 
and if the Siamese twins themselves had 
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f I^huta^i-^ffh. 

■ 5* 


elected to dine at this particular hostelry, it is 
highly probable that the only question likely 
to suggest itself to the mind of the phleg- 
matic landlord would have taken the form of 
a speculation as to whether his remarkable 
guests should be charged for as two persons 
or as one. 

An aged rustic of inanely benevolent 
aspect, and an apparently hypnotized donkey, 
formed the only visible inhabitants of a 
timher-built settlement marked on our chart 
as Mucking. 

Before granting us the sole copyright of 
a snapshot of himself and his steed* this 
" rude forefather of the hamlet " demanded 
an interview, of which the following is a 
verbatim report : — 

"Wart's them?" 


" Wart ? " 

u Skates ! " 



" Wart are they for ? " 


"Skatin 1 ?" 

" Exactly." 

" They ain't bicycles, 

"No, skates." 

" Eh ? " 

" Skates ! ! * 

"You needn't 'oiler so 
loud; I ain't deaf! Warts 
them sticks for ? " 

"To support the ankles." 

" Uncles ? " 

« No, ankles ! n 

"Wonderful ! I wish my 
ole woman was 'ere to see 

"So do L Where h 

" Dead an 1 gone well-nigh 
fourteen year ago ! " 

" Vm very sorry for you," 


14 I'm sorry. You must 
miss her sadly. ' 

11 No, Sally worn't *er name, 
same as the donkey's is. I 
'er. w 

I cut the interview short at this embar- 
rassing stage ; and left the ancient rustic still 
posing for the portrait which my friend had 
secured some ten minutes previously. 

Near Stanford-le-Hope my signals of 
distress were observed by the driver of a pass- 
ing brougham, who very kindly volunteered to 

Digitized by G< 

take me in tow. An adverse wind and a rough 
road had by this time rendered me almost 
speechless, so, completely demoralized^ I 
nodded a guilty assent and accepted an offer of 
assistance which, an hour ago, I should have 
re j ec te d w i t h h au g h t y co n t em p t . tor tu na tel y 
the photographer was a long way in advance 
at this humiliating stage of the journey, other- 
wise my brief degradation might have been 
depicted in compromising black and white, 
and published throughout the length and 
breadth of the country, As it is, I have 
touched upon the incident as lightly as 

A long rest at Pitsea completely restored 
my flagging spirits, and after a formidable 

From a Pkoio, lty\ 

It were Jane, 
called 'im after 


I toupJa* Smith* So uthmd. 

incline, locally known as "Bread and Cheese 

Hilt," had been ascended, we passed rapidly 

through Thundersley and Hadleigh, until the 

ivy covered tower of Leigh Church appeared 

in sight, while the distant waters of the 

Thames estuary, glittering and sparkling in 

the brilliant sunshine, formed a charming 

background to one of the most enchanting 

views in Essex, 

The three .miles of imacadam which 
Original from 




connects Leigh with Southend was in perfect 
condition ; and the fact that this distance 
was covered in exactly fourteen minutes will 
give the reader a fair idea of what even a novice 
in the art of road-skating can accomplish 
under favourable circumstances. A steady, 
swinging stroke will carry the skater along 
with far less exertion, and with more speed, 
than the short, quick stroke which it is 
necessary to practise on a road with a good 
surface only in the middle and between the 

It was while making up for lost time on 
this picturesque stretch of roadway that the 
accident occurred which my watchful kodak 
fiend has called " Off the I Jne." A steep 
decline, several macadam waves, and a 
passing vehicle were the chief factors con- 
cerned in my unromantic downfall. I really 
began to fall at the top of the hill, but the 
final botanical dive was not undertaken until 
I had hurled myself round an abrupt corner at 
the bottom. The lengthened period required 
to successfully u come a cropper " while skat- 
ing on the road gives the performer ample 
time to "hope for the best" and to " prepare 
himself for the worst" That he is compelled 
to " bear whatever happens i3 is an entirely 
superfluous remark. The picture speaks for 
itself in this respect 

Metaphorically speaking, the good people 
of Southendon-Sea received me with open 
arms. My appearance in High Street, dusty 
and travel-stained though I was, excited con- 
siderable interest, and I was interviewed at 
great length by one of the few visitors still 
left in the place before I had time to remove 
my skates, and seek shelter in the compara- 
tive seclusion of the Royal Hotel. 

From this somewhat disconnected narrative, 
my readers will be able to form their own 
opinions as to the probable stability, or 
otherwise, of the latest athletic innovation, 
and the possibilities of road -skating as a 
healthy and an exhilarating pastime. 

So far as speed is concerned, the macadam 
skater will never be able to hold his own with 
even an indifferently mounted cyclist ; but 
for moderate journeys, undertaken on roads 
which are beyond reproach, the new sport 
has many advantages to recommend it. The 
convenient portability of the skates is a 
strong point in their favour, and if any rivalry 
could exist between road-skating and cycling, 
the former would score heavily in this con- 
nection. An enthusiastic admirer has aptly 
described the pastime as the "missing link " 
between cycling and walking, and, as such, it 
can scarcely fail to claim a large number of 
patrons from every class of the community. 

Front a] 


I f 1 - .'<■..', >i , I- 

C^f\r\n\i' Original from 


Illustrated Interviews. 


By Marie A. Belloc. 


ES, extraordinary as you may 
think it, I consider there is 
little doubt," observed one 
of the leading French black- 
and-white men, thoughtfully, 
(d that my friend Caran 
d'Ache played quite a notable part in bring- 
ing about the Franco- Russian Alliance. You 
see, he has won, though still a young man, a 
real place in the hearts of our beauty-loving 
populace, Well might he exclaim, ' I-et me 
draw a nation's caricatures — I care not who 
make its laws/ No artist has more cleverly 
indicated the weak- 
nesses and foibles of 
that extraordinary 
being, William II., and, 
as is natural in one 
who is after all half 
Russian, he has spared 
no pains to bring the 
finer side of Holy 
Russia before the eyes 
and imagination of the 
Parisians, who look 
forward to his weekly 
page of political car- 
toons in the Figaro as 
to an ever-recurring 
source of amusement" 
The greatest carica- 
turist of France, if not 
of the world, M, 
Emmanuel Poir£, or, 
as he is better known 
to the most intimate of 
his friends as well as to 
the least distinguished 
of his admirers, Caran 
d'Ache, has set up his 

household gods in one of the quietest and 
prettiest streets of suburban Passy. There he 
is not only within a quarter of an hour's drive 
from the Opera and the centre of Paris, but 
he is also at a stone's throw of the Bois de 
Boulogne, and on the high road to the 
beautiful belt of country which lies beyond 
Sfevres and SL Cloud. 

Some years ago a number of artists and 
literary Parisians "discovered" Passy, and 
among the great caricaturist's nearest neigh- 
bours are his intimate friend, Jan van Beers, 
whose marvellous miniature palace is still the 
talk of fickle Paris ; Munkacsy, the Hungarian 

h'rr*m a f'htttu. 

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genius, whose terrible illness has cast a gloom 
over artistic I ohemia ; Henri Rochefort, who 
must find sunlit Passy a startling change after 
Regent's Park ; and Henri Lavedan, the most 
brilliant of satirists and playwrights— to say 
nothing of a score of other distinguished 
people, who are all reckoned good and trusty 
fellow-craftsmen by your kindly modest host ; 
for Caran d'Ache has a simple dignity of 
manner said to be rarely associated with 
militant genius. 

The large studio in which he has gradually 
arranged his many possessions lies well away 
from the pretty, fan- 
tastic Louis Quinze 
" hotel " built from his 
own design, being 
separated from Madame 
Caran d' Ache's dainty 
eighteenth - century 
safon by a corridor lined 
with some fine old First 
Empire engravings, 
dealing for the most 
part w T ith events con- 
nected with the strange 
career of their present 
owner's hero, Napo- 
leon L 

" I was born and 
bred in the Napoleonic 
tradition," he acknow- 
ledged, in answer to a 
question. "Yes, it is 
quite true that my 
grandfather was one of 
the great Co rs lean's 
trusted officers, one of 
those chosen to ac- 
company him on the 
disastrous expedition to Russia. More 
fortunate than many of his comrades-in- 
arms, my I ore bear was wounded at the 
Battle of Moskowa, and so escaped the 
horrible fate of dying from cold or star- 
vation ; instead, he was carried off the field 
by some humane Russian officers, and was 
treated with all honour as a prisoner of 
war. In fact, it was as an inmate of one of the 
grimmest of Russian fortresses that he fell m 
love with the young Russian lady who after- 
wards became my grandmother At the 
time the marriage took place the whole face 
of things in France had completely altered. 
Original from 


Ijjt Afattor, Part* 






The Grande Arm^e was but a phantom 
memory ; my grandfather's beloved chief 
was a heartbroken prisoner at St. Helena, 
and so, yielding to his bride's wishes, he 
rioter-mined to remain among the aliens who 
had been so good to him* 33 

"Then I suppose, monsieur, that your 
own father was to all intents and purposes a 
Russian ? " 

£< Yes, and no* My grandfather never 
allowed his children to forget that they were 
French, although he himself never again saw 
his own country. He founded, at Moscow, 
a fencing school, which soon became famous ; 
indeed, it was there that Fescrhne Franpxht 
was introduced, for the first time, into the 
Russian army." 

" And what brought you home ? JT 

"I am by birth a Muscovite, but, as so 
often happens in such cases, the fact that I 
had never seen and knew so little of the land 
of my ancestors only increased my desire to 
see France, and even as a child I solemnly 

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determined to re- 
conquer my 
French nation- 
ality. My father 
died when I was 
seventeen, and in 
spite of all that 
my friends had to 
say against the 
idea, I applied at 
the French Em- 
bassy in order to 
know what would 
be the best way 
in which to fulfil 
the obligation, 
which I knew 
devolved on every 
young French- 
man, of serving a 
certain time in 
the French army. 
Once I had ob- 
tained this, to me, 
very important 
information, I 
started gaily for 
France with very 
little money in my 
pocket, but with 
high hopes and 
boundless ambi- 
tions surging 
through my bra in." 
" I presume that, 
even as a school- 
boy, you had acquired some artistic training ? " 
" No, ,} was the unexpected answer. u I 
was, it is true, always drawing, but only for 
my own pleasure, and, I need hardly say, out 
of school hours. A good deal of my time 
was spent as a child among the good-natured 
soldiers of my father's adopted country, and 
I confess I cherished a secret wish of becoming 
a military painter. One day, to my great joy, 
someone presented me with a fine book of 
French engravings, and among its contents 
was a short account of Detaille, together with 
some specimens of his splendid work. 
Accordingly, I made up my mind that I would 
seek him out — youth is ever bold — and no 
sooner had l reached Paris, in, I may add, a 
somewhat forlorn condition, than I boldly 
presented myself at M. Detaille's front door, 
a portfolio of sketches under my arm." 
11 And you were kindly received ? " 
15 Kindly is not the word ! Edouard 
Detaille received me in a fashion that proved 
him to possess what is perhaps rarer even 

Original from 




than great genius — a great 
heart. He looked over 
my poor little drawings, 
encouraged me to perse- 
vere, and then, after I 
became a private in the 
French army, he never 
lost sight of me. Indeed, 
it was owing to his in- 
fluence that I was finally 
appointed to work at the 
War Office among those 
whose duty it is to pre- 
pare drawings of uniforms 
and so on. 

" Even then," he added, 
after a moment's pause, 
" M. Detaille's kindness 
did not stop there ; he 
gave me some valuable 
advice. Instead of pro- 
posing that I should be- 
come a student in some 
art school — a course 
which would have been 
from every point of view 
impossible to me at that 
time, even had I wished 
it — he told me to study 
from life, and not to be 
discouraged, however 
poor might be the result ; 
and so, no sooner did I 
find myself in the guard- 
room of the 113th Line 
Regiment, than I began 
following my master's 
advice in season and out 
of season. Not till I 
became attached to the 
War Office, however, did 
I find time to do work 
with a view to publication. 
To my surprise, I found 
a ready, if a humble, 
market for my wares, and 
it was then that I first 
signed my drawings 
c Caran d'Ache/ which, 
as you may know, signifies 
in Russian Mead pencil.' " 

"And did you gradu- 
ally make your way? Or, 
if it is not an impertinent 
question, to what do you 
attribute your first great 
vogue as a caricaturist ? '' 

" Nay, I consider that a 
very legitimate question ; 


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Original from 



SCENE Fkcm l( L'lirorJEli/" 11Y UKAN U ACHE. 

for there must be in every artist's life a 
moment when he finds himself trembling 
between obscurity and popular success. -As 
for myself, my first great stroke of luck was 
undoubtedly the production of FEpoph\ at 
the Chat Noir." 

And as my host uttered these words there 
suddenly came into my mind the half-for- 
gotten recollection of an evening at Mont- 
martre, spent in gazing at the wonderful 
shadow performance which was at that 
time the talk, not only of Taris, hut of 

Many of those to whom FEpapie stands 
out among their own cherished recollections 
of a visit to Paris are probably unaware that 
they owed this rare artistic pleasure to the 
now famous draughtsman ; for at the time 
when the original performance took place 
in the strange Bohemian Gate concert, now 
numbered among the dead glories of vanished 



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Paris, Caran d'Ache was quite unknown, save 
to a small group of Mont mar tre Bohemians. 

"As to what suggested FEpaph" he 
added, u that was a very simple matter, A 
friend asked me to design an illustrated cover 
for a comic song, I attempted to carry out 
my idea by an application of the old- 
fashioned silhouette. Suddenly it struck me 
that my initial idea was capable of unending 
developments. I threw myself with ardour 
into the work, and as the result of hundreds 
of experiments finally produced the leading 
scenes of the great Napoleonic drama, care- 
fully divided into thirty tableaux, The whole 
was engineered, as it were, with the help of 
four thousand figures and horses, each of 
which was entirely evolved and produced 
by me, being first drawn, then cut out 
and pasted on a zinc leaf, which, when 
once more silhouetted, produced a sentient 
member of my large dramatic company, I 
may add that the whole work from beginning 
to end was entirely carried out by me, 

" I need hardly say/' continued Caran 
d'Ache, *' that I was fortunate in finding a 
man who understood at once the possibilities 
which lay in this very novel type of moving 
tableaux. Had it not been for the proprietor 
of the Chat Noir, all my labours might have 
come to nothing* However, thanks to him 
I had my chance, 

"The whole action took place across a 
comparatively small white screen. I attended 
every performance and stage-managed the 
whole affair myself. I think I may say/* he 
added, modestly, "that I succeeded in creat- 
ing a very vivid impression of life and move- 
ment. Each detail of every little figure was as 
carefully studied as were those of Napoleon I. 
himself, and I made many experiments before 
I felt even half-satisfied with the result The 
most striking, and also the most popular, 

Original from 



tableau was undoubtedly * The Retreat from 
Russia,' for a curiously impressive effect was 
produced by the slow passage in single file of 
countless men, horses, waggons, and carriages, 
across the great, snow-bound plains/' 

But the artist was too modest to allude to 
the extraordinary impression produced by 
this strange work of genius. From all parts 
of the Continent artists, eager to make 
acquaintance with this extraordinary novelty, 
crowded to the Chat Noir, Among those 
who made their way up the steep streets of 
old Montmartre were celebrities as strangely 
different as the Prince of Wales, General 
Boulanger, and the then President of the 
French Republic. Meissoiiier, the great 
military painter, declared hint self astonished 
at the extraordinary accuracy of the historical 
costumes and uniforms as indicated in 
silhouette. Drawings of T Epopee were sent 
" by request " to the late Czar, who, to the 
end of his life, was one of Caran d'Ache's 
most constant patrons. Indeed, much of his 
best work even now goes to Russia. 

" And have you never cared to pursue this 
kind of work ? " 

" For a time silhouettes continued to 
exercise a great fascination on me," he con- 
fessed, half-reluctantly. u I produced several 
series of tableaux at the Chat Noir, including 
the presentment of the great avenue of the 
Boisde Boulogne filled with Parisian notables 
of the hour on horseback, on foot, and in their 
rarriages. A little later I showed my audience 
the vast snow-laden Russian steppes. I have, 
however, a horror of monotony, You must 
have noticed that nowadays the moment an 
artist makes a 
success, all those 
round him make 
vigorous attempts 
to confine him to 
the particular 
class of work 
which has pro- 
duced a tempo- 
rary sensation. I 
suppose, had I 
cared to do so, I 
might have gone 
down to history 
as the arch-show- 
man of this/ftN&- 
sik/e Y but I should 
have considered 
that in so doing I 
was degrading not 
only my art, but 
also myself, No, 

strange as you may think it, I have always 
been extremely anxious to do serious work. 
For years I have cherished the scheme of 
some day devoting my life to completing a 
great series of military pictures, taken from 
every period of history. One of my heroes, 
by the wa,>% is the great Marlborough. But 
all brilliant deeds of arms attract me, and, 
even as a boy, I began a collection of military 

" And as to your methods of work ? " 
"Well, I work very slowly, and so far I 
have preferred to draw in line. Apropos of 
black-and-white work, I am an enthusiastic 
admirer of your leading English draughtsmen, 
I have long been familiar with the work of 
Phil May, Linley Sam bourne* Dudley Hardy 
— but it is invidious to mention certain 
names, when there are so many now turning 
out black-and-white work full of genius and 
originality. Of course, from my point of 
view artists should be able to draw anything. 
As to myself/' he added, laughing, " I leave 
one branch of art severely alone : that is 
portrait -pain ting. Friends have often asked 
me to draw them ; if ever I attempt to carry 
out their wishes they are anything but pleased 
with the result You see, the worst of it is I 
really see people in line, and often, when I 
have produced a group which I consider 
almost photographic in its accuracy, I am 
informed that I have rarely made a letter 
caricature ! " 

" And where do yon find your subjects ? SI 
Car an d'Ache made a vague gesture, 
" How can I tell? Here, there, and every- 
where ; at a smart wedding ; at any one and 


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Original from 


l6 3 

& ^ * 




at all of the funerals, which, alas ! play so 
great a part in our social life : when riding 
home on the top cf an omnibus ; walking, 
riding, cycling, impressions are stamped as 
it were on my brain, I do not entirely rely 
on memory, for I am fond of jotting down 
notes in a small memorandum hook if I hear 
a funny or original phrase, a joke that strikes 
me as really new, or anything that will suggest 
a new composition, I make use of a kind of 
artistic shorthand, which I will defy anyone 
but myself to understand ; the signs are made 
very quickly, they over-Jap one another: to 
me each is instinct with meaning, and even 
with form* But when it comes to the 

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finished drawing " 
— he paused a 
moment and took 
a long breath — 
11 that is a very 
different matter, 
no pains can be 
too great j and I 
can truly say that 
at no time, even 
when I was very 
poor, did I allow 
the necessities of 
the moment, if I 
may use such an 
expression, to 
control my out- 
put I am a be- 
liever in very 
careful and con- 
scientious work. 
People imagine 
that my drawings 
are ' dashed off/ 
I bow down be- 
fore those who 
can produce 
easily ; alas ! I 
cannot claim to 
imitate their ex- 
ample. Take one 
simple matter, 
that of costume. 
Tell me what a 
man wears* and I 
will tell you what 
manner of man 
he is." 
"Then it is true, 
monsieur, that 
you attach an im- 
mense import- 
ance to clothes ? " 
" I will admit that the cut of a frock-coat 
is not indifferent to me," he observed ; "and, 
personally, I cannot see why all the small 
elegancies of life should be left to the fairer 
half of creation. You will observe that 
Nature is exemplified in the nursemaid and 
the little child — both love a uniform ; the 
craving is a thoroughly natural one ; elegant 
and suitable habiliments react on the wearer, 
and there can be no doubt that the knight of 
old felt twice the man he really was when 
attired in his full coat of mail and riding 
out to do battle to an opponent armed 
cap-a-pie. Nowadays the dandy can only 
exercise his fancy on his bicycle costume. 

Original from 




Corporal: 4I Attested ! Shoulder As MS ! H 

Lieutf-namt: "That Won't Do At All Louder, Cokiwal, 

Like Tma- 

M ore's the pity, say I ; and I live in hopes 
of seeing not only the chimney-pot hat, but 
also the hundrecl-and-one modern inelegancies 
of masculine costume utterly banished, for 
they must have made our mid-century most 
painful to every man of taste." 

"I suppose I need hardly ask you if you 
regard photography as an aid to art ? " 

" Nay, that is indeed a superfluous question, 
not that I fail to admire much of the work 
turned out by the brilliant individuals who 
make photography a special study ; but I 
absolutely deny that a sun-picture can be of 
the slightest real assistance to an artist. The 

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painter and designer must surely, above all, 
rely on imagination, and their own brains 
must contain far more sensitive plates than 
any yet placed in mechanical cameras. 1 ' 

" And have you any rules to your work, or 
do you only draw when you feel that the 
inspiration is on you ? " 

li I fear that, in common with most people, 
I leave that which has to be done to the last 
moment. I am a nit^ht bird, and my friends 
tell me that my best work is done at night. 
Sometimes, months pass without my putting 
pencil to paper, save, of course, for my own 
pleasure. From a business point of view, 

Original from 





Lieutenant : " SHOULDER AR-R MS ! ' 

winter and spring are my productive seasons. 
In the summer I am lazy, In the autumn 
there sterns so much to be done, and during 
the long clays it seems sad to think of work. 

M Yes, I am fond of travelling, and I have 
rmsacked many sleepy towns in search of old 
uniforms and kindred objects. Unfortunately 
the mere amateur has begun to be interested 
in this class of relic, and whereas, not so very 
long ago t he who was inspired with a real 
love for such things could purchase a splendid 
old uniform for fifty francs, now his wealthy 
rival will willingly bid over him twenty times 
that sum. However, my friends are very 

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good to me, and make a point of telling me 
whenever they hear of any particularly inter- 
esting or characteristic morceaux for sale* 
Again, like my friend and master, M. Detaille, 
I have a pission for battle-fields, and I have 
carefully explored all those within immediate 
reach. Ahs I that there should be so many 
near and about Paris. 1 ' 

"Do you ever illustrate the literary works 
of others ? 1I 

" I have done so. Thus, I illustrated n 
number of comic essays of Albert MiU&ud, 
also Rochefort's * Fantasia/ but now 1 nearly 
always supply the iegendes running under my 

Original from 



" OH \ MAMMA !" 

drawings. Mind you, I am not of opinion 
that words should ever play a great part in 
explaining humorous work. I am a great 
believer in telling a story silently, and by 
means of the pen or pencil alone. In fact, 
that is one reason why I draw and re-draw 
my work so often ; the meaning should be 
quite clear. I do not care for obscurity in 
any form, and I need hardly add that I 
attach an enormous importance to back- 
grounds and to accessories," 

" And is there any special work now 
occupying your 
attention ? " 

"Well, in one 
sense j I always 
have more to do 
than I seem to 
be able to ac- 
complish, and 
once a week I 
contribute half a 
page of political 
sketches to the 
Figaro ; but at 
present I am de- 
voting a great 
deal of thought, 
to say nothing of 
time, to working 
out a scheme 
which will pro- 
bably first see the 
light in a com- 
pleted shape at 
the forthcoming 
Exhibition of 

1900. I am think- 
ing of calling it 
* La Rut de Cent 
Ans r 7 'The Street 
during a Century/ 
and it will be a 
kind of panorama 
embodying the life, 
movement, and 
poetry of the typi- 
cal Paris thorough- 
fare during the last 
hundred years. 
Among other things 
will be shown the 
many modifications 
undergone by traffic 
from the days of 
the post-chaise to 
those which have 
ushered in the 
motor-car- Perhaps 
you will hardly believe me when I tell you that 
I have found working up this subject a matter 
of absorbing interest ; I have literally hundreds 
of authorities, and the more I go on, the more 
absorbed I become. Of course, there will be 
many glimpses of the great Revolution, and 
the First and Second Empire will also play 
their part, and then there will be the grim 
Siege of Paris, I am avoiding any element 
of melodrama ; but picturesque incidents are 
of course welcome, and one of the most 
important features of the scheme will be a 



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Original from 



reconstruction of the historical Review held 
by Napoleon I. on the Place du Carousel" 

"And will each tableau be drawn?"! 
inquired, curiously. 

Caran d'Ache smiled mysteriously. w I 
am keeping all the technical side of the 
affair a great secret Of course, my one idea 
will be to make the presentment of my 
subject as vivid and convincing as possible ; 
happily, with the help of contemporary prints 
and portraits, it has not been difficult to 
gather a very vivid idea of our immediate 
forebears, and of how they comported them- 

11 By the way, surely when composing this 
kind of work you find it necessary to make 
use of models ? " 

M No, indeed I have very strong views 
concerning the professional model, and in 

from my point of view, beasts are quite as 
interesting as human beings. Whenever I 
can spare the time, I enjoy an hour in the 
Jardin d'Acclimatation as much as any 
of the children whom I see there. Horses 
have always remained my favourites, but 
there are many creatures precious to the 
artist: elephants, for instance, are peculiarly 
picturesque, and lend themselves most 
happily to pen and pencil.'* 

4t By the way, do you yourself generally 
work with a pen or with a pencil ?" 

"At the present moment most of my 
drawings are done with pen and ink, or, 
which in some ways I like better, with a very 
fine brush- I have thousands of studies, for 
I so often modify my original conception, 
that these generally become very useful to me 
afterwards. When whatever drawing I am 


this matter I disagree with many of my most 
talented comrades. To my mind — perhaps 
it is an idiosyncrasy on my part — no pro- 
fessional sitter can give a true impression of 
life and movement, That a man or woman 
should be suddenly able to slip into the skin, 
as it were, of another character would argue 
on his or her part a very notable dramatic 
gift- Why should we expect to find a great 
actor or actress in every professional model ? 
Now, animals make very good sitters, and 
every dog lover will admit that no one can he 
a better poseur than our intelligent four-footed 
friend when he has a mind that way. Still, 

engaged on approaches its final stage, I fasten 
it by its edges upon a large sheet of glass ; 
this enables me to change or add such details 
as I think fit Of course, as regards repro- 
duction, I prefer the old-fashioned wood 
block ; my editors, however, do not see eye 
to eye with me in this matter. By the way,." 
he added, quickly^ c * I have never consented 
to work to order, that is to say, I must be 
quite free to choose my own subject." 

" I suppose, monsieur there is hardly time 
in your life for ordinary hobbies and amuse- 
ments ? " 

4i Indeed, there is. I should be sorry 

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Original from 

1 68 


were my work to 
turn into a kind of 
monomania with me. 
At one time I used 
to ride a great deal, 
but I have given it 
up to a certain ex- 
tent in favour of 
cycling, for I not 
only consider that 
the latter is a more 
healthy form of exer- 
cise for an artist, but 
also that it gives one 
endless opportunities 
for seeing the pic- 
turesque and absurd 
side of life. During 
the last two years I 

have persuaded my wife to follow my 
exam pie , and scarce a day passes without 
our taking long excursions, both in the 
Bois and beyond it, in those little-known 
corners of Seine-et-Oise ? where the wheel is 
still looked upon with terror by the peasantry. 
Then again, as is surely fitting in my good 
old grandfather's descendant, I have always 
been specially desoted to fencing, and during 
the winter months I 
make it a point to 
attend a salle d'armes 
at least three times a 
week. But to tell you 
the truth, I pity the 
man who has not at 
least one hobby or 
amusement into which 
he can throw himself 
heart and soul. Even 

when for some reason 
or other I cannot 
indulge in any active 
form of physical 
exercise, I have 
pienty to amuse me 
at home. I delight 
in literature, especi- 
ally in old literature, 
and there is always 
something new to he 
learnt about those 
periods in history 
with which I am 
sped al 1 y concern ed ♦ 
I need hardly tell 
you what a boon to 
A study. me ] ias been the 

recent revival of 
interest in Napoleon and his times." 

It may be added in conclusion that, though 
M. Caran d'Ache was very discreet as to 
his share in bringing about the Franco- 
Russian alliance, I came away with the firm 
conviction that, if my host had unfortu- 
nately never existed, the Czar and Czarina 
would not have been acclaimed with so 
much enthusiasm during their brilliant visit 
to Paris. Treaties of 
alliance between great 
nations are concluded 
in the chancelleries of 
Embassies and in the 
council chambers of 
Kings, but it rests with 
those who have the 
ear, and still more the 
eye, of the people to 
make them effective. 

by Google 

Original from 


By E. A. Braylev Hodoetts. 


HE word "mask" means a 
different thing to different 
people. The student of his- 
tory and biography has a 
conception of a mask totally 
-I different from that of the 
frequenter of the bah masques of the Paris 
Opera, or little Tommy when he is home 
for his holidays and devotes his intellect 
to frightening the cook. Nevertheless, all 
masks have something in common : they are 
all counterfeit presentments of faces. But 
while the historian is interested only In the 
masks of historical personages, the schoolboy 
takes a wider and more catholic view* This 
article will interest primarily the schoolboy. 
If he can succeed in frightening his sisters and 
the household generally, he will be happy. 
With a view to a promotion of his happiness, 
vre intend to furnish 
the schoolboy with a 
few models which, if 
he can successfully 
imitate them, will 
prove most effi- 

Being oldsters, and 
therefore, of course, 
prigs, we cannot, 
however, content our- 
selves with a bare 
description of the 
masks here illus- 
trated, nor resist the 
temptation to offer 
" information " and 
convey " knowledge," 

for which all properly constituted schoolboys 
will hate us. Thus we very much fear that 
we shall please nobody. 

To begin with, there is the prosy scientific 
theory of the "origin" of masks, which 
nobody knows, consequently it is quite safe 
to write yards on this subject. Some people 
have thought that the object of the mask was, 
not to frighten the cook, but to illustrate the 
Buddhist theory of " Metempsychosis," which 
is a fine w r ord. 

Vol. kv,—22. 

Others, again, maintain that the savages 
whom we know to-day, and consider to have 
been arrested in their evolution, are really 
the descendants of the naughty boys of the 
human family — that they have degenerated 
and lost the arts and knowledges which they 
formerly possessed, Thus the curious customs 
of savages would be perversions of former 
very excellent practices, and the heathen 
mythologies of those uncivilized races, which, 
strange to say, all possess a strong family like- 
ness, would be idolatrous and vile corruptions 
of an ancient and beautiful religion common to 
the entire human race. 

Still, none of these views will quite explain 
the origin of masks, yet masks are found 
pretty nearly all over the world. 

Here, for instance, is a splendid one (No. i ). 
It is the mask used by the devil dancers of 

Ceylon, and is to be 
particularly recom- 
mended in the case 
of very pious old 
maiden aunts. This 
mask is supposed to 
be the portrait of a 
devil, named Calloo- 
Coomare ; he is a 
Ceylon devil, and 
ought to be a very 
exciting person to 
meet on a quiet, dull 
Sunday afternoon. It 
is painful to have to 
record that the Cin- 


by Google 

galcse, instead of 
"abjuring the devil 
and all his works, 1 ' as they ought, actually 
worship Call oo- Coo ma re. If anybody is ill, 
the priests of the devil, wearing his mask, 
which is made of wood, painted in various 
colours, and has a tusk sticking out of each 
side of the horribly grinning mouth — the 
devil always grins — two discs at each side, 
and three cobra capellas on the top, come and 
perform the devil's own dance. An altar, 
decorated with garlands, is erected, and the 
sacrifice, usually a cock, is offered on it> 

Original from 


i 7 o 


together with rice and all the proper ingre- 
dients, Here is a specimen of the prayers 
of the devil-priests \ — 

" The Black Devil, who dwells under the 
rocks and stones of the 
Black Sea — (the Cingalese 
seem rather hazy in their 
geography) — looks upon the 
world , sees the infants, and 
causes them to be sick* 
Thou, Fanah Devil — (not 
very polite this)— who ac- 
ceptest offering at the place 
where three ways meet, thou 
causest the people to be 
sick*" etc. 

This is a very long prayer, 
and full of vituperation ; 
the devil is called a furious 
devi/zmd a bloodthirsty devil \ 
and is described as playing ' 
in a pool of blood* Thus 
it will be seen that playing 
pool is an invention of the devil's. This 
devil is also told that it plays in the laundry, 
a most valuable hint this for the schoolboy; 
It is very bad to be ill in England, with 

eyes roll and the mouth open and shut. It 
is the mask of a medicine man. We should 
recommend that this mask should be used 
with discretion. The effects might otherwise 
be disastrous. It would be 
t very suitable for the Lord 
Mayor's ball. 

A very creditable work of 
art is the mask marked 
No* 3* It comes from New 
Britain, and shows that the 
natives of that interesting 
island must have very 
strongly developed aesthetic 
taste* It is made of wood, 
carded and painted in 
various brilliant colours, and 
elegantly trimmed with fibres 
and feathers. In some re- 
spects it would give the 
mafinh hat points, although 
it is, of course, far less 
hideous. As a table-orna- 
ment it would make the reputation of any 
family. An intelligent boy who could succeed 
in producing an exact reproduction of this 
work of art would deserve a sound thrash- 
ing for not devoting his abilities to a better 

We understand that the War Office is looking 
out for a new head-dress for the Army* Some- 
thing light, elegant, and imposing is wanted. 
Here is the very thing (No, 4) ; the mere 
sight of it would frighten any ordinary human 
enemy* Although this specimen is made of 


,. j 


j»— DAtfCTNG .mask KknM nkvi burt'AtN. 

doctors and nasty medicines, but what fun 
it must he in Ceylon ! 

The next mask (No. 2)* which comes from 
North America, is a very helpful one, especi- 
ally if properly coloured* It is cut out of solid 
wood and painted light blue,, black and white. 
The lower lip is of canvas and movable by 
strings, so also are the eyes, This is a most 
fascinating mask. The wearer can make the 




Original from 




wood, we see no 
reason why it 
should not be 
made of straw. 
There is a very 
fine red plume in 
the centre. Of 
course, the mask 
beneath has not 
quite the facial 
expression of the 
average Tommy 
Atkins, but that 
is a detail This 
also comes from 
New Britain, and 
must have adorn- 
ed the head of 
a New British 
Grenadier, if 
there is such a 

If the War Office should adopt our sugges- 
tion, we would recommend the Home Office 
to attire policemen in the garb of the Duk- 
duk, as shown at No. 5. The Duk-duk is not 
a quack doctor, as his name would seem to 
imply, but the stern guardian of law and 
order. He is only known by the initiated to 
be a human being -the unfortunate "general 
public " look upon him as a sort of demigod. 
We could point to similar curious phenomena 
even in this country. Mr, Wilfrid Powell, in 
his " Wanderings in a Wild Country," senten- 
tiously observes ; " It is curious how widely 
distributed is this Duk-duk system/' It is 
found in New Britain, New Guinea, New 


Ireland, and also in a good many older 
countries. The Duk-duk travels through the 
bush, visiting each village and setting every- 
thing right, resembling in this respect a 
newspaper correspondent If anybody is 
accused of injuring another the Duk-duk 
demands restitution, and if this is not 
rendered the Duk-duk burns down the 
offender's house and generally executes 
judgment. Women and children may not 
gaze on the Duk-duk, or they will die. The 
schoolboy is told this in all fairness, to 
prevent accidents. Nor may the secrets of 
the Duk-duk be discussed outside the Taboo 
ground, where he is supposed to live. If an 
uninitiated person trespasses on the Taboo 
grounds of the Duk-duk, he is incontinently 


by Google 


eaten up by the Duk-duk. Are there not 
Duk-duks everywhere ?, 

Savages wear masks very much as we do — 
at dances, only there is a slight difference 
between the dances. We are able to give illus- 
trations of a batch of masks from New Guinea 
and neighbouring islands, used exclusively 
for what must be called savage bah masques. 
They are certainly highly commendable from 
the schoolboy point of view (Nos. 6 — 18). 

No. 6, for instance, looks like a gigantic 
tea-cosy, or the enormous grenadier shakoes 
of the eighteenth century, which are still 
worn in Germany and Russia by certain 
guard regiments. This mask is made of 
whitened bark cloth on a basket frame of 
cane ; the features are coloured red and black 
and outlined with white. The mouth Is 
open, A boy of twelve with a mask like this 

Original from 


i 7 2 





would create quite a sensation coming un- 
expectedly downstairs. 

In No. 7 the eyebrows are of red wool, 
very neat ; the mask is cut out of solid wood 
and decorated with strings — would suit old 
lady* No. 8 is not unlike No, 7 ; it is 
evidently intended to represent some musical 
deity. No, 9 is evidently the mask of a local 
clown ; it is made of wood and painted white 
and red. There is an air of refinement 
about No. io, although it is hardly good form 
to carry one's walking-stick thrust through 
the nose ; the eyes, also, are too close together 
for high ideality. Nevertheless, the general 
design is artistic. The treatment of the hair 
in particular is excellent The hair is human 
hair. This mask is also of wood, the eyes 
being of mother-of-pearl. 

No + 11 must be the pantaloon to the clown 

of No. 9 ; it has a weary, tired, weather-beaten 
look, and is made of sheet-iron. It is supposed 
to be an imitation of tortoiseshell, but we feel 
sure that any average boy could produce a 
better mask than this out of a discarded bis- 
cuit-box. Tortoises hell being rare, the 


Digitized by GoOQlc 

MASK Ob' tllHI'OISlMlHI. I'fJ'^il UAHNl.KY l>LANO, 

natives substitute whatever material they can 
pick up from wrecks and in other ways, 
No + 12 is a sort of pre - Raphaelite 
attempt in real tortoiseshell. It is distinctly 
depressing, and has a mediaeval air. Not 
so No, 13. This is a very perfect piece of 
work, and has a baboon look about it. It 
is made of bark-cloth, or tapa, stretched on 
Original from 




work of art. It is* also made of tortoiseshell, 
but is decorated with mother-of-pearl, casso- 
wary feathers, and seed shells. It looks like a 
nightmare, and is distinctly impressionist in 


a frame of cane. This mask 
is appropriately coloured 
black and red s and has ribs 
of fibre. A very pretty 
design is No. 14. This is 
expensive, and made of 
tortoiseshell. The eyes are 
too close together for our 
notions of beauty ; but the 
mouth is full of expression, 
and the ears suggest the 
friend of the Old Kent 
Road coster. A Shakes- 
pearean forehead gives a 
false atr of intellectuality to 
this mask. This must be 
by way of satire. In No. 15 
we have another elaborate 


lsLANO + LENGTH ai«>ut 5 ft. 

execution. We now come to a series of 
pantomime heads, No. i6, for instance, is 
supposed to represent a fish, The rude, 
untutored savage has engraved a pattern on 
it, inlaid it with white 
enamel, Aspinal's for pre- 
ference, and decorated it 
with cassowary feathers. It 
is made of tortoises hell, 
and is 5ft. long. This 
mask is guaranteed to 
frighten anybody, from 
fathers downwards, at fifty 
paces. The same may be 
said of No. 17. This is 
also of tortoiseshell, and is 
supposed to represent a 
crocodile's head. It is 
decorated with cassowary 
feathers and nuts, It is 
all nuts to the schoolboy. 
The horn at the top looks 


mous 1 thiSt:sr, 


by Google 


formidable, but is harmless. No. 18 is very 
elaborate. There is a poetic dreaminess 
about ii which is most beautiful. The eyes 
are distinctly yood, but why there should be 

Original from 



a double row of eyebrows is a 
mystery. Pigeons, cassowary 
feathers, shells, mother-of-pearl, 
etc., are the ingredients used 
in making this latest style of 
mask, which is supposed to 
represent a crocodile's head 
We see that the fashions in 
masks are numerous. In olden 
times they used to be invariably 
made of tortoiseshcll, but the 
modern rage for cheapness has 
reached even the savages, who 
now use old boxes and kero- 
sene-tins, and find them just 
as effective. This is a valuable 
hint, for the schoolboy cannot 
always get tortoiseshcll. 

A very elaborate head-dress 
is No. 19* It consists of a 
double-faced mask of black- 
ened wood wearing a hat, and 
with ornaments in the hair. 

as we shall presently see* 
Throughout a considerable 
portion of Western Africa the 
feminine part of the com- 
munity stand in dread of a 
semi - human demon called 
Mumbo Jumbo. He usually 
makes his appearance at night, 
when the natives are enjoying 
the West African equivalent 
for a county ball. His ap- 
proach is heralded by a cry, 
and he joins the party unin- 
vited, armed with a rod, and 
followed by attendants carrying 
sticks. While the people dance 
round him, probably mistaking 
him for Jack-in-the-Green or a 
May -pole, he suddenly walks 
up to one of the women and 
touches her with his rod. She 
is instantly seized by the atten- 
dants, dragged to a post, tied 
to it, and there receives a 
sound thrashing under circumstances of great 
indignity. This would make a novel and 
exciting figure in a children's cotillion. The 
Mumbo Jumbo visitation is always a put-up job. 
The men are all in the secret, and know who 
Mumbo Jumbo is* The woman selected has 
been bad-tempered, had a fit of the tantrums, 
and so the husband arranges for a Mumbo 
Jumbo entertainment Savages have some very 
excellent institutions, but we fear that the intro- 
duction of this custom into an English family 
circle among brothers and sisters might lead to 
unpleasant consequences for the brothers. Still, 
the schoolboy could recommend his school- 
fellows to try it on their sisters, and watch the 

result. There is nothing 
very remarkable about 
the masks shown under 
No. 20* Lowther Arcade 
can produce far better 



From the bottom hangs a fringe of 
black fibre. To the superficial 
observer this mask would suggest 
reminiscences of Noah's Ark and 
Aunt Sally, and would appear to be 
the head-dress of a local book-maker, 
'bus-driver, negro-min^trel, or bishop. 
It is really a Mumbo J umbo mask, 
and comes from West Africa. This 
mask will be found very useful in 
punitive expeditions against sisters, 

by Google 

za>— JAPAN Kfctt MAPKH, 

Original from 




?I,— IHAKK FROST NEW C A t.K\ >< ' S ( A. 

specimens. They 
come from over- 
rated Japan, and 
are worn by the 
actors of that 
artistic country, 
They are made 
of wood and 
painted to taste. 
They might 
serve to soothe 
the loneliness of 
and for that pur- 
pose are possibly 
hideous enough, 
Hut No. 21 
represents a 
really ingenious 
piece of ugliness. 
Not unlike a 
Polish Jew in 
appearance and 
style, it is made 
of black painted 
wood attached 
to a cylindrical 
frame made of 
coarse stuff or cloth woven across slender 
stems of wood, and stiffened by a piece of 
brown bast inside. From the lower part 
depends a cord net-work, with long black 
fowl feathers attached, which covers the body. 
The hair and whiskers are made of coarse 
frizzled human hair, and the beard of plaited 
round cords of the same. This mask conies 
from New Caledonia, 
and with the addition 
of a hump it would do 
very well for Punch. 
There is this advan- 
tage about it, that the 
wearer for the time he 
has it on is " taboo," 
and can hit anybody 
he likes without being 
hit in return. There 
is considerable doubt, 
however, in our mind 
whether similar privi- 
leges would be ex- 
tended to the wearer 
of such a mask in this 
tyrannical country. 

No, 22, though not 
very large, we may, 
nevertheless, be ex- 
cused if we baptize this 
as an Elephantine 

work. Carved in wood, and painted in black, 
red, yellow, and white, it is very fetching, 
vide the " beady " eyes. We must also note 
that, for some reason best known to the 
maker, the ear is placed directly under the 
left eye. The mouth requires no comment! 
The place of birth is somewhere in Northern 
New Guinea, 

No, 23 is what we are tempted to call a 
high-falutin' mask. At all events, it measures 





from " head to fool " something over five feet. 
We have two views of it ; the first is a full- 
face, the second a profile. The mask proper 
consists of coloured wood; the beak of a 
bird points downwards from directly under, 
and in a perpendicular line with, the nose. 
But perhaps the most striking part is the 
superstructure, which is nearly twice as high 
as the face itself. A melange of carved 
birds and snakes, of multicoloured feathers 
and bones, supports a native lady, caught half 
way round a somersault, and tied there for 
ever. That is, no doubt, the New Ireland 
Original from 




natives' method of 
solving the mo- 
mentous "Woman 
Question/ 7 

The two masks 
depicted at No. 24 
are not made of 
oranges, as their 
general shape and 
appearance sug- 
gest, but are carved 
out of solid wood. 
The teeth are gilt t 
which makes them 
look like an advertisement for an American 
dentist. Their eyes arc painted a quiet red 
and yellow, and the face is white, with a 
few black and gold adornments. They are 
worn by Javanese actors — during the panto- 
mime season, no doubt. 


the " Washington 
Post 1 ' or the 
44 Shadow Dance" 
with a thing like 
that on your head. 
The last mask 
of our collection 
(No. 26) is some- 
what difficult to 
make in this coun- 
try, for it is con- 
structed of tor- 
toise shell and 
trimmed neatly 
with human skulls, all of which have be- 
longed to the enemies of the wearer^ and been 
struck off their owners 1 shoulders by him. 
We should therefore not advise anyone to 
attempt to reproduce this mask unless, indeed, 
he use a biscuit-tin as a substitute for the 
tortoiseshell, and hang it round with the 
skulls of the cats he has slain. This 
particular mask was found in the 
Straits by Mr. C E- Krockett, who 
formed part of an expedition sent 
out to find the survivors of the 
ship Ckarfes Eaton y lost in the 
Straits in 1834. The mask was 

■i.%— MASK KMUM Sl-:W lHb1,*M3. 

At No* 25 we have given a specimen, not 
for imitation, of a really beautiful mask, 
which also comes from New Ireland- The 
savage who executed this work of art must 
indeed have felt proud of himself, and 
probably his friends put out his eyes to 
prevent him from making another* It is 
constructed of wood, cane, fibre, and shells, 
and is painted black and red. The wings 
are red, white, and black* The whiskers are 
of red fibre* Hut the grand feature of this 
masterpiece is a magnificent nautilus-shell 
which crowns the whole. It must have 
been found rather heavy* Fancy dancing 

by Google 


appropriately picked up in Skull Island, 
and it was discovered that the skulls on 
it were mostly those of Europeans, probably 
of the very people whom the expedition 
was in search of. 

Original from 

By G. M. Robins, 

[T/u'i stoty is a sequel to " Her Only" -which appeared in the September number of The Strand 
Magazine, and has been written at the request of the great number of readers who were deeply interested in tk* 
l&vs tfjfaits of John Ruthven and Claire, ft twV/, however r be found quite intelligible ami interesting to those 
who hare not read the previous story, ] 

T was last summer that John 
Ruthven re- visited Europe, 
after an absence of nearly 
twenty years. He had gone 
out to California a boy in his 
teens : and fortune had been 
long enough in coming. Now, at last, he 
was rich enough to take a real holiday : he 
did not expect pleasure, but he knew he 
wanted rest. 

At Interlaken he had made friends with 
Stafford Keene, an Englishman travelling 
alone, an old knfrititf of Switzerland, knowing 
the out-of-the-way places, and the nooks 
where still the tourist is rare. 

By his advice, Ruthven went to Nfrithal, 
which was then an ideal spot, quite irapro- 
faned by the vulgar ; for in that year, the 
threatened railway had not begun to under- 
mine trie magnificent Gondon Pass, 

It was an evening at the end of July, The 
long day was drawing to an exquisite close. 
Table d kdtt was just over, and the visitors at 
the hotel were, as usual, out in the road 
awaiting their daily excitement of the arrival of 
tht; diligence from the Italian side, N6rithal 
stands superbly, grouped upon a rising ground 
at the head of the valley, 5,000ft above 
sea level, nested in pine woods, and frowned 
down upon by three majestic snow peaks* 
Looking down the road, the heights of the 
Bernese Oberland, in mystic distance, 
glimmer like a dream of the Delectable 
Mountains; and to-night the arch of skv 

Vol- kv,-23. 

Digitized by L^OOgle 

above them, in the tender, lingering twilight, 
was rose-colour and amber and purple, like 
the rainbow round about the Throne. 

Ruthven strolled down the road, lost in the 
beauty of this vision- He was so absorbed, 
that he missed the flutter of excitement that 
the dashing down of the diligence brought 
with it : and started when, at a considerable 
distance down the road, the lights flashed 
past him, in the ever-deepening gloom, and 
disappeared again presently, far under his 
feet, to reappear on the* road below. 

Behind the diligence came an empty 
carriage, which had doubtless deposited its 
passengers at Nerithal, and was going on to 

As he sauntered back, Keene met him. 

" New arrivals," he said, in a voice which 
sounded particularly festive. 

(< Ah ! " responded Ruthven, laconically, 

" Yes, awfully nice people," went on Keene, 
waving his cigar in the air in a manner which 
showed him to be a trifle uplifted. " The 
Vanstons — he's American — and Mrs. Van- 
ston ? s sister." 

" Indeed ! " 

* ( Mrs. Vanston's sister," went on Keene t 
M is the prettiest woman I ever saw in my life**' 

M Then avoid her, my good sir, as if she 
were the plague/' said Ruthven, grimly. 

"Oh, come, you're not that sort, are 
you?" asked Keene, lightly. "I have 
never looked upon you as a blighted being, 

Original from 


1 7 8 


" A blighted being ? " said the young man, 
slowly. "But I think that is pretty much 
the size of it Yes, on the whole, I think I 
am a blighted being. If I am, most certainly 
a woman did it." 

" Curious. I thought you lived in a world 
with no women in it. I have been rather 
looking forward to the fact that Mrs. Vanston's 
sister would make you change your place of 
residence. It isn't only that she's pretty, you 
know " 

"Then you expected to meet her here?" 

11 My good sir, that's what I came here 
for. I knew the Vanstons were coming into 
Switzerland over the Gondon." 

" Humph ! " 

" You won't say * Humph ! * when you've 
seen her." 

Ruthven had not been smoking, but now 
he sat down on the low stones by the road- 
side and lit up. Keene leaned at his side, 
and gazed at the sunset and whistled softly ; 
his heart just then was full of the poetry of 
life, though ordinarily he was a most prosaic 

" Jove ! She is pretty ! " he presently said, 
under his breath. " But, then, so is Mrs. 
Vanston ; but how any man could have 

married her when he had seen her sister 

You know — it's the indescribable something ; 
I suppose Helen of Troy had it." 

" Very probably." 

" Well ! I see it's no good to expect any 
sympathy from you to-night : to-morrow, 
when you have seen her ! " 

Ruthven leaned forward, staring at the 
ground ; presently he began to speak : " I 
met a woman once," he said. " Woman ! 
she was hardly more than a girl. She was 
lovely, refined, brave, tender. She had eyes 

one could lose one's soul in ; a mouth 

Well ! never mind that. She was a hypo- 
crite and a traitor. When she had got what 
she wanted, she apologized — so nicely ! — 
for making a fool of me. Oh, I know what 
you are going to say : that all women are not 
like that. I answer, if that woman was a 
traitor, then every woman that ever lived has 
in her the capacity for treachery. Mind you, 
this was the right kind of woman; I have 
met both kinds, and I know." 

" It's a hopeless task," said Keene, gravely, 
" to expect a man not to profit by his own 
experience. Talk is of no use. To-morrow 
you shall see Mrs. Vanston's sister." 

Next morning, however, when the little 
hotel colony met at breakfast, Ruthven had 
eaten, and was off. He had decided, on 


beholding the crystal clearness of the morn- 
ing, to make the ascent of the Bortelhorn, an 
easy climb which Keene did not care to 
attempt again. It was afternoon when he 
returned. People were having tea on the 
terrace in front of the dependance, where 
the shadows were beginning to temper the 
heat of the day. 

" Where is Mr. Keene ? " he asked, of two 
amiable spinsters who invited him to tea. 

"Strolling in the woods with the new 
arrivals — are they friends of yours, Mr. 
Ruthven ? American, are they not ? " 

" Mr. Vanston is American, I understand : 
but they are Keene's friends. I do not know 
them at all." 

" Pretty girls, both Mrs. Vanston and her 
sister : all the young men in the hotel seem 
to be talking about them." 

"I will stroll along in that direction, I 
think, and meet them. Miss what-ever-her- 
name-is must be something out of the com- 
mon to make Keene so enthusiastic : he is 
not prone to enthusiasms." 

A winding path through the woods led 
round the shoulder of the hill ; there was, in 
fact, more than one path, thridding the 
fragrant dusk of the pines. In the heat, the 
stillness and the peace, John Ruthven felt 
the delicious lassitude which comes after 
bodily effort. Nobody was in sight or sound. 
He sat down on one of the rustic seats with 
his pipe ; and, drowsing, dreamed a dream. 
In his dream, the woman whom he had met 
at the other side of the world stood beside 
him. She did not speak, but she gazed wist- 
fully at him, with eyes that besought pardon. 

" Will you never forgive me ? I have 
suffered so," she said. 

" I will never forgive you," he replied, 
doggedly ; and then she laughed in scorn. 

" Have I deceived you again ? " she cried, 
in light mockery. 

The laugh was horribly clear and real — it 
woke him from sleep. He stumbled to his 
feet with a tremor running through all his 
limbs, and confronted four people on the 
narrow path before him. 

She was there in bodily presence, Claire 
Hurst, the woman who had befooled him ; 
and at the same moment that he became 
conscious that it was she, a clear little flute- 
like voice cried : — 

"Oh, Claire! Claire! Surely it is the 
Captain ? " 

" The Captain, unless I dream," said the 
sweetest voice in the world, with entire com- 
posure, and its owner stretched out a hand 
as in friendly recognition. 

I I i-i I II 'I I 





The man held his breath, A thousand 
thoughts ran through his brain. Should he 
refuser that hand ? No ! Fortunately pride 
stepped in, To do that would be to make 
himself ridiculous before this audience \ if 
he wanted to humble her, surely other means 
lay ready to his hand? He could expose her 
to Keene After a just-perceptible hesitation, 
he took her hand — and dropped it instantly ; 
but not too soon to perceive that she was 
shaking like a leaf. 

Mrs, Vanston came up smiling, and lifting 
her pretty baby face. "You remember me. 
Captain, don't you?" 

"Certainly I do T Mrs, Vanston," 

" Aha ! " jovially cried Mr, Vanston, a 
plump, little, merry - looking man, with a 
Yankee accent " I've heard about you, 
Captain, and often heard Maidie and Claire 
say they would like to meet you again ! 

by Google 

Well ! The good old world's not 
such a big place after all, is it ? T ' 
Ruthvcn looked as if he hardly 
enough to contain Miss 
Hurst and himself: 
but he committed 
himself to no expres- 
sion of opinion on 
the subject. He 
found himself ab- 
stractedly .walking 
along at Mrs. Van- 
ston 's side, in 
the narrow path, 
listening to her 
clear little pip- 
ing treble, as 
she commented 
upon the 
strangeness of 
the meeting. 

" I was mar- 
ried three 
months after 
our adventure in 
California," she 
said, " Freddie 
was travelling 
A Vest to see the 
country, and he 
came to Pebble- 
brook, and ! 

lt And stayed 

there till I got 

what I wanted 

— hey, Maidie?" 

gleefully cried 

the beaming 

Freddie, who 

much in love. 

the rare diamonds on 

Maklies little fingers, and the recherche gown 

she wore, and concluded that Freddie was rich. 

"Miss Hurst has not yet thrown herself 

away ? u he said, drily. 

" Claire ? Oh, no ! We say, Freddie and 
I, that she has grown so used to saying 'No/ 
that she will never get rid of the habit." 

Claire and Keene were some pnees behind, 
lingering to look at the setting sun through 
the interlacing boughs, 

11 Poor devil ! " thought Ruthven. lt I must 
lead him out of his fool's paradise." 

No other word passed between Ruthven 
and the woman who had so strangely crossed 
his path. They separated silently at the 
hotel door, and the man went up to his room. 
Here Keene found him a little later, occupied 
in packing up his things. 

Original from 

evidently was still 
Ruthven noted 

i So 


" Halloa ! What's up now ? " he asked. 

" I'm going away," replied Ruthven, shortly. 

"Gn account of Miss Hurst?" 

u Exactly/' 

" Explanation needed here, Accounts 
don't tally. Miss Hurst tells me you rendered 
her a great service : that she did you an 
injustice, and is delighted to have the chance 
to tell you so : you, on the contrary, shun 
her like the pestilence** 

Rutlwen stood up, very white. 

" Keene," he said, "you're in love. You 
won't believe a word I say: but I am in duty 
bound to tell you, before I go, what I know 
about Claire Hurst." 

11 By all means, let's hear the worst/' said 
Keene, in a confident voire, in which, never- 
theless, a strain of anxiety was audible. He 
sat down on the bed. 

"Once," began Ruthven, entirely without 
preface, M when I was very down on my luck, 
I went to the mines at Coppervitle, They 
were an ornery set down there, as you may 
guess ; and a parcel of them were little better 
than assassins, But there was one who was 
the worst — far the worst of the lot. He 
sinned even against w T hat code of honour and 
morals that scum still retained among them- 
selves. So they set 
on him, in the dark, 
like the curs they 
were, and stabbed 



him to death. That was too much for me; 
I should have dearly liked to punch the 
brute's head : but for a dozen men to 
murder one, was another matter. I went 
into the thick of it, and fought for that 
beast as if he had been my brother ; and I 
was the one who was on hand when the 
sheriffs officers came. I was covered with 
dirt and blood, and they took it all for 
granted. The only friend I had within call, 
whose word was worth a rushlight, was Colonel 
Hurst, of Pebblebrook. They let me send 
an express for him ; but he — didn't come. 
In justice to him, I ought to say that I heard 
— a long while afterwards — that he was away : 
a week later he did come — too late. They 
do things pretty sharp in those parts ; and, 
after they had waited a day or two, Mike, 
one of the hands* came to me in the night, 

" ' Look here/ said he ; 'they'll string you 
up, sure enough ; they've been longing for 
years to make an example of this camp. I 
don't feel like owning up my own share in it, 
to save you ; but I do feel like helping you 
to make off. There's friends of mine up in 
the hills — over in what they called Dungeon 
Gap— who'll be glad enough of your company, 
and you can lay low till things blow over. 1 

" I took his offer ; there 
wasn't anything else to do. 
Of course, his friends were 
road agents, but I wasn't too 
particular about that I had 
that idiotic sort of feeling that, 
because I had been badly 
treated, I was free to treat 
other people badly. I hated 
everyone, because 
men had not be- 
lieved my word. 
When I had been 
there three months 
they made me cap- 
tain. Well, one day 
we heard that two 
girls, nieces of 
Colonel Hurst, 
would be driving 
through Dungeon 
Gap on their w + ay 
to visit him : and 
I determined to 
revenge myself on 
him for leaving me 
in the lurch when 
my life was at stake. 
So we took the 
two girls prisoner, 
for ransom," 
Original from 




"And those two girls were Mrs. Vanston 
and her sister ? " cried Keene, excitedly. 

"Just so." There fell a long silence. 
Ruthven was chewing the end of his bleached- 
looking moustache, and staring at the floor. 
" She got round me," he said. " I had never 
loved a woman before. I gave her all my 
soul, and she knew I gave it She let me 
kiss her mouth ; put that in your pipe and 
smoke it, Keene ! .... I helped them to 
escape, throwing up, by so doing, as she 
must have known, my only way to earn a 
living. I wandered away to a town where I 
was not known, hoping to evolve some 
scheme whereby I might see her face again. 
And there I heard, quite by chance, that the 
man who helped me to escape had been 
crushed by a falling rock, and, finding himself 
dying, had cleared my name. So I was free. 
I went straight to her — and heard, from her 
own lips, the confession of her own fraud. 
That's all." 

Another silence fell upon the room ; 
through it, the sound of the dinner-bell 
clanged through the hotel. After a moment, 
Keene asked, almost timidly : " Is that — 
really all, Ruthven ? " 

" All ? Yes, there is nothing more. That 
was the end." 

" Then you must excuse me if I say that 
I think you take too serious a view of it." 

" Too serious ? " 

11 Yes, I think Miss Hurst was justified up 
to the hilt in what she did. She was in an 
awful position : her little sister was entirely 
dependent upon her : their lives — nay, even 
more than their lives — were in the power of a 
set of ruffians. She used the only means she 

" She is a traitor," said Ruthven, doggedly. 
" I had not deceived her. What I did was 
in the way of business ; but she betrayed the 
soul she had awakened. Dante keeps his 
lowest hell for traitors. However, I have 
done my duty. I have warned you : if you 
do not think it matters " 

" No, I do not think it matters ! " cried 
Keene, as one throwing off gladly an insidious 
apprehension. " You have relieved my mind 
of an immense load ! She is a spirited girl, 
and I admire her pluck! What you have 
told me raises her a hundredfold in my 
estimation. So, now you have discharged 
your duty, we may consider the matter 

" Yes," said Ruthven, with a deep breath, 
" the matter is closed now." 

The Vanston party were already dining 
when the two young men walked into the 

by L^OOgle 

room, and took their seats at another of the 
long tables. Claire Hurst did not look at 
either of them ; but she said, under her 
breath, to Maidie : " He has been telling Mr. 
Keene all about it" 

44 He would not be so mean," said Maidie. 

" He would stop short at nothing, in his 
hatred of me," said Claire. " I felt it scorch 
me this evening in the wood. How he can 
hate ! " 

14 If he is going to be disagreeable, I hope 
he will go away," remarked Maidie, peaceably. 
" He does look rather explosive." 

" I was going to be so misguided as to ask 
him to forgive me," replied Claire ; " but if 
he has told, I will tear out my tongue sooner." 

" Are you going to bring your guitar into 
the woods and sing to us this evening, as you 
didatArolla, Miss Hurst?" isked Stafford 
Keene, after dinner. 

" And as you did at Dungeon Gap," said 
a mocking voice at his elbow. " It would 
be quite a reminder of old times, would it 
not, Mrs. Vanston ? " 

" Oh, Captain — I must call you that," 
cried Maidie, " Mr. Keene says you are 
going away ! " 

44 1 did think of going, but my guide says 
I must not go yet. He has been so unfor- 
tunate as to get me up two mountains with- 
out breaking my neck, and he wants me to 
give him one more chance — he guarantees 
to do it all right the third time. It seems a 
pity to balk such a laudable ambition," said 
Ruthven, politely. 

Maidie laughed gaily. Claire had turned 
away, and moved towards the house, and 
Keene bounded after her to carry the guitar- 

The first stars were beginning to show 
in the stainless heavens. The mountains, 
and the warm, still night, made the scene 
strangely reminiscent of California. 

As Keene took the guitar-case from Claire's 
hand, he said, in a low voice : — 

" Ruthven has been telling me the manner 
of your first meeting — and of your parting." 

She stopped short upon the steps of the 
hotel, and looked the young man in the 
eyes. " I was to blame, was I not? " 

" Not in the least." 

She looked regretfully at him a moment, 
in silence. " I wish you had not said that," 
she said, in a vexed way. 

41 You wish I had not said it ? " 

44 Yes ; it gives me a low opinion of your 
judgment," said she, with a half-petulant 
laugh. " Even Mr. Ruthven sees more truly 
than that." 

Original from 




since I last 

K eerie followed her, mystified. Like a 
white-robed spirit of the twilight, she flitted 
before him down the woodland path, follow- 
ing the load star of Maidie's pale-blue gown. 
They all stopped at a point where a rustic 
seat had been placed, and the two girls sat 
down* The three men leaned against the 
adjacent firs, and the cigars of two of them 
made the night air fragrant. 

Claire played. She would only play 
sprightly airs, and sing little, heartless, 
graceful French songs, which did not appeal 
to her hearers. Her mien had never been 
more blythe, her notes more clean When 
she had done, tired at last, and the last notes 
had died away down the ravine, and melted 
into the rushing of the falls, Ruthven broke 

"You have" not improved 
heard you, Miss Hurst." 

" I am surprised that 
you should say that/ 1 she 
answered, lightly. 

"You sang better at 
Dungeon Gap," he slowly 
repeated : Sl but, then, you 
see f more depended upon it." 

"Just so," she answered, 

If Won't you give us some- 
thing more —pathetic?*' asked 
Keene. " I am in a senti- 
mental mood to-night." 

She let fall her arms with 
a w T eary gesture* "No more 
to-night/' she cried, ^especially 
since I have failed to please/ 1 

"You cannot fail to 
please ; but I like to be 
moved as well/' said Keene. 

il Miss Hurst is equally 
good at both/' said Ruthven, 

As he spoke, some of the 
other guests came down the 
path, attracted by the sounds 
of music. They were clamor- 
ous for another song, but 
Claire was obstinate, and 
would not oblige. One lively 
young lady, to whom Keene 
had been rather attentive 
two days ago, took posses- 
sion of him ; and, the Van- 
stons, moving on with some 
others down the path, the 
girl found herself, before she 
knew it, left face to face with 

Slowly and proudly she rose, and turned 
back, as though to go to the house. He 
came towards her, square and determined, 
his grey eyes looking hard in the starlight 
Abruptly he said : — 

" I have told Keene how you treated me." 

"Then we are quits," .she replied, calmly, 
stopping suddenly and facing him. "Do 
you think I fear you? We are not in 
California now/* 

" What makes you say we are quits ? " 

" If you think, as I suppose you do think, 
that I care for Mr. Keene's good opinion, you 
have done me as great an injury by telling 
him, as I did you by employing stratagem to 
save Mai die and me." 

*' Nothing of the kind : he does not care a 

"That does not alter your conduct : you 


by Google 

Original from 



told him with the desire to injure me in his 
eyes. You have relieved me of a weight. I 
thought you were greater than I. In fact, 
ever since you went away, that day on the 
piazza, I have been so weak as to wish 
earnestly to ask your pardon. Now you have 
come down to my level, and restored my self- 
respect. " 

" Keene was my friend, and I wished to save 
him unhappiness. It was my duty to think 
of him before you." 

"Maidie was my sister, and I wished to 
save her life ; it was my duty to think of her 
before you," she retorted. 

" There is a difference. You acted a lie, 
to save your sister ; I told the truth, to save 
my friend. But all happens as it always 
does ; the lie — succeeded : the truth — is a 

The tears rushed to her eyes. " Oh, you 
are cruel," she cried, in a voice which had a 
wail in it 

"The tortured are often cruel," he said, 
" when it comes to be their turn." 

She dashed the tears away. "You shall 
not make me suffer," she breathed, defiantly ; 
" and, when you say that you told Mr. Keene 
the truth about me, because he is your friend, 
you are saying what is false. You told him, 
because you wished to be revenged on me for 
the trick I played you. However, you have 
failed, as you say." 

They faced each other breathlessly in the 
moonlight His eye hungrily perused each 
lineament of the face which had haunted his 
dreams for three years. It was slightly 
altered : the contours were less round, the 
mouth softer, the expression less insouciante^ 
more intense. What a face ! And she, too : 
had not those grey eyes, with their look of 
dumb suffering, under those curious, heavy, 
fair brows, been in her memory ever since 
they parted on the piazza at Pebblebrook? 
The poignancy of what she felt seemed to 
enfold her like a flame : she stared at him 
like one fascinated. 

" You have no longer the wish to ask my 
pardon ? " he said at last, with a sneer that 
brought the blood to her cheek like a whip. 

*■ None ; you are not magnanimous. One 
only humbles oneself before someone who 
would understand — a gentleman, for example." 

" I do not believe you have any shame in 
you," he slowly said. 

" None. I had — but you have dissipated 
it I would have saved you pain in every 
way I could, because I treated you most 
unfairly. But now, I only wish it were in 
my power to make you suffer ; and I glory in 


knowing that I am safe from you. Nothing 
that you could possibly do could give me 

" Take care ! " he cried. " If you taunt 
me, there is no knowing what 1 might do." 

" Whatever you do, or do not do, will be 
just the same," she steadily replied ; " you 
cannot possibly injure me in the eyes of — the 
man I love ; and I care for nothing else." 

Her eyes were full upon him, as with 
deliberate emphasis she hurled this ultimate 
stroke at him. And it seemed as if the fire 
in them literally struck sparks from his. 

" You do not know my influence over 
Keene," he flashed. 

11 Over Mr. Keene ? What bearing has 
that on the subject? I said, 'the — man — I 

He stood for some moments, tense, quiver- 
ing with passion, almost beside himself with 
stress of feeling. 

" I will make it the business of my life to 
find him," he threatened, " and he shall know 
what I know about you." 

"Ah, save yourself the trouble," she 
returned, sweetly, "for he knows it already." 

A spell of glorious weather had no doubt 
set in, with a steady barometer, and every 
prospect of lasting ; and, when the Vanstons 
had been three days at N£rithal, Freddie 
and Stafford Keene determined to make the 
ascent of the Gabelbefg. Ruthven was 
away : he had started to walk alone over the 
Gondon, had slept one night in Italy, and 
would be returning next evening ; but the 
weather was so exceptionally favourable that 
the guides advised the others not to wait 
for him. 

They started, therefore, in the afternoon, 
hoping to reach the lower Hut, sleep there, 
and make the whole ascent the following day. 

They had been gone about two hours when 
Ruthven returned. He got back in time for 
table cFhSte, and Maidie Vanston plaintively 
demanded his protection after dinner, as 
their gentlemen had left them all alone. 

They went out and sat down on one of 
the seats outside the salon. The hotel was 
very full, and some of the visitors were 
dancing inside. Ruthven asked Maidie to 
dance with him, and she accepted. " It 
seems so funny and nice to be dancing with 
you, Captain," she said, happily. " I think 
it was so delightful our chancing to meet 
you : do you know, just at first, I was rather 
frightened that you wouldn't speak to us?" 

" What could have made you suppose 

Original from 


1 84 


"Oh— you know — I was there, on the 
piazza— the day you came to see Claire," 

" Oh — ah, yes. And you thought I should 
bear malice ?" 

"Well, I thought perhaps you might," 

" And you see no signs of it ? * 

She laughed out merrily. "Why, no!" — 
she had caught some of Freddie's American- 
isms — "Claire says you and she are quite 
good friends-" 

"Ah ! just what I should have expected 
her to say." 

"What do you mean ? " 

" Your sister is very clever, Mrs. Yanston." 

"Yes, isn't she? And so brave, too. Do 
you know, I had diphtheria last winter, in 
Dresden, and she nursed me through it." 

" I hope this man she is going to marry is 
worthy of her." 

" What man ? She isn't going to marry, 
that I know of," said Maidie, in a mystified 

"Indeed? I was misinformed, then. I 
heard she was very much in love with some 
fellow, and that was why she was 
refusing all offers." 

"Oh, well, if she is, that is her 
own affair," replied Maidie, calmly, 
" I never interfere with her." 

"I hope you will ask me to the 
wedding , Mrs. Vanston." 

"Oh, I think you are sure to be 
there, if it ever comes off." 

" If? It is uncertain then ? " 

"Very, I should think. Claire might 
change her mind, you know j but I 
have never known her keep to the 
same one so long before : in fact, it 
would be truer, " T went on Maidie, 
thoughtfully, " to say I never knew 
her to care for anybody at all before. 
It has always been somebody else 
who cared for her*" 

" Oh> well, as I said before, it is 
to be hoped the gentleman is deserv- 
ing of all this," 

"If you ask my candid opinion 
of him," said Maidie, with a little 
trill of laughter, " I think he is rather 
a fool" 

Claire had disappeared when they 
returned to the bench where they had 
left her, nor did she again appear 
that night 

Thfi climbing moon went up the sky, 
And nowhere did abide, 

First she silvered the outer edges 
of the mountains, and then, by 

degrees, poured her light in floods into the 
mysterious recesses of the valley ; by-and-by 
she sent a shaft of radiance in through a 
window to the bed whereon Claire lay tossing 
to and fro in sleepless unrest. 

She sat up in bed, and locked her hot 
hands round her knees. 

"Oh," she whispered, "it is too much 
pain ; I cannot bear it any more. I must 
tell Maidie we must go away to-morrow. 
After three years full of the pain of longing, 
just as I was beginning to settle down in 
some sort of content, to think it might be 
possible to forget him — to see him again, to 
find that he has not forgotten, that he is red- 
hot against me, a merciless enemy ! Oh ! 
It is unmanly, shameful, to be so implacable," 
She slipped out of bed, and crept to the 
window, " His eyes seem to be in the dark, 
all about me," she murmured. " I feel as if 
his thoughts never left me j as if, even if we 
went to another place, the knowledge of 
his hate would pursue me. Oh ! Captain ! 
Captain ! " 

by Google 


Original from 



She pulled aside the curtain, and looked 
out into the radiance of the night. The 
hotel at N<£rithal is built upon both sides of 
the road, and a covered gallery across the 
road connects the two halves with each other. 
As Claire stood at her window, she could see 
the window of the room where Ruthven slept, 
in the opposite house. It was a corner room, 
with a very small iron-railed balcony, made of 
one heavy slab of stone, outside the window. 
The girl leaned her forehead listlessly against 
the glass, gazing out at the intense clearness 
with which everything was outlined by the 
moonlight : and, as she gazed, there drifted 
between her eyes and the wall of the 
hotel facing her a dimness, as of vapour. 
With an instantly arrested attention, she 
watched it : and in a moment another puff, 
thicker this time, floated into the air: 
it came from the window underneath 
Ruth ven's— one of the windows of the sal/e- 
a-manger, and almost instantaneously she 
became convinced that it was smoke. One 
more glance was enough ; a forked, long 
tongue of gleaming red darted across the 
window, and licked up the lace curtains. The 
hotel was on fire ! 

For one instant she remained, fixed and 
rigid ; in the next her nerve had returned to 
her. Thrusting her feet into slippers, she 
took from the wall a long cloth coat, or 
ulster, which she wore on misty days in the 
mountains, and buttoned herself securely into 
it; the next moment, she was down the 
passage, and beating at Maidie's door. 

" Maidie ! Maidie ! Wake up and let me 
in ! " 

Maidie's sleepy, flower-like face speedily 

" Maidie, for Heaven's sake, don't scream, 
but I believe the hotel is on fire — the other 
side, across the road, you know." 

" Oh, Claire, what shall we do ? Freddie 
is away," cried Maidie, desperately, rushing 
to the window, and tearing back the curtain. 
There was now no doubt about it : the flames 
were leaping from the window, and playing 
round the wooden gallery of communication. 

" Maidie, there is not a moment to be lost 
— he's in that room, just above the window 
where the flames are," gasped Claire. " What 
you have to do is to make a noise — scream 
as much as you like — cry ' Fire ! ' — rouse the 
hotel. Give me that thick shawl to wrap 
round my head — there ! I am going across 
to save him, before it is too late." 

She was gone before Maidie could make 
an effort to detain her, even before the full 
significance of what her sister was about to 

Vol xv.— 24* 

Digitized by \j009 Ic 

do had flashed upon Mrs. Vanston's con- 

Save him she must — she would. All her 
pluck, her resolution, was gathered together. 
She ran down the long passage, and gained 
the wooden gallery. The further end of it 
was dark with smoke already. She heard 
the floor creak under her as she ran. The 
smoke was dense when she gained the other 
side, but she found the door she sought — the 
first door on the left. With both hands she 
pounded and shook it. 

11 Mr. Ruthven ! Mr. Ruthven ! Wake 


! The hotel is on fire ! Fire ! Fire ! " 

she screamed as loud as she could. 

She heard many sounds, breaking the 
stillness of the night — the opening of doors, 
the sharp echo of startled voices, the cries of 
frightened women ; but there was no sound 
from within the Captain's room. 

" Captain, Captain ! " she shrieked, " it is 
I, Claire ; answer, if you are alive ! " 

Only silence. 

The flames now had possession of the 
wooden gallery along which she had come, 
and were roaring at her left. She did not 
hesitate. Feeling absolutely certain that he 
was stupefied by the smoke, she deliberately 
opened the door, and went in. There was a 
good deal of smoke in the room, and a 
terrible smell of burning wood ; the intense 
heat warned her that the floor was burn- 
ing, and might burst into flame at any 
minute. But her eyes sought only the 
bed irt the corner by the window. It was 
vacant. She rushed to the window, gasping 
in the ever-thickening smoke, and saw, with 
wild relief, that the bed had not been used — 
it was quite smooth and neat, and Ruthven 
was not in the room at all ; he must be some- 
where out of doors. The revulsion of feeling, 
after her moments of tension, was almost too 
sudden. For a minute everything was blurred 
before her eyes, and the smoke-wreaths swam 
up and down ; the next she was realizing, 
with a new terror, that, having got into the 
room, it was not possible for her to get out 
again. She had left the door open, and so 
supplied the draught needed to kindle the 
smouldering wood. Dense volumes of black 
smoke were rolling up from the floor, and 
across the open doorway she could see red- 
leaping flames. There was only one chance 
— the little iron balcony. She stepped out- 
side, and shut the window behind her. 

It was a different scene from the moonlit 
quiet of ten minutes ago. The road seemed 
to be full of people, in all kinds of undress, 
and wild with terror. Everyone was crying out 

u\ I I _' I I I 


1 86 


to know if everyone else was out of the burn- 
ing building: and, when Claire appeared on 
the balcony, there was a chorus of screams, 

£ *The stable where the ladders are is on 
fire," she heard someone say: and with, for 
the first time, a serious thought of her own 
peril, she glanced downwards, measuring the 
distance between her window and the ground, 
and then backward, into the burning room 
she had quitted. The fierce heat, even out- 
side, where she stood, showed how great a 
hold the fire had obtained. Beginning in 
the empty safk-a- manger f and as it happened, 
underneath an untenanted room, it had re- 
mained undiscovered until the smouldering 
stage was passed, and it was ready to burst 
into flame at all points. Most 
of the men present were 
fathers of families, frantic 
until their own nearest and 

dearest were safely out of 

danger Keene, the 

man who would have 

rushed instantly to 
Miss Hurst's assist- 
ance, was away. The 

kindly old hotel- 
keeper was infirm; 

his brave daughter 

was round at the 

stables, helping to 

get out the terrified 

horses, whose cries 

were making the 

night hideous. There 

was no hope of a 

rescue immediately. 

Clai re swiftly 

made up her mind 

to wait until the 

flames reached her, 

and then jump. 
It was upon this 

scene that a man 

who had run wildly 

down the road for 

a couple of miles 

now dashed, 

breathless and frantic, 
Maidie Yanston, 

rushing up and down 

in the most becoming 

of dhhainlk^ swooped 

down upon him, and 

seized him by the wrist, 

"Captain! Captain! Thank (iod, you 

have come ! Save Claire, look at Claire! 11 
"Where? Where?" Ik- cried, hoarsely, 

looking wildly in every direction. 



by Google 

" Outside your room, on the balcony 
there. Oh, Captain, they say they cannot get 
the ladders ! " 

u In my room!' 1 echoed Ruthven, as if 
stupefied, as his eyes fell on the erect figure, 
outlined black against the glare of flames in 
the room behind her* "Great heavens, 
how did she get there? '* 

** To save you, of course," screamed Maidie. 
" It was she who first saw the fire, and she 

ran straight there " 

He was no longer listening to her — he was 
under the window where, on the frail balcony, 
stood the patient figure* Now hope crept 
into Claire's heart, as she looked down upon 
his upraised face. 

"Open the window behind you/' he 
said, distinctly; "just inside the 
room, under a small 
table, is my coil of 
rope. Quick ! " 

His eye had mea- 
sured the progress of 
the flames ; he saw 
there was no time to 
lose ; he knew that the 
opening of the window 
would createadraught, 
but it was, neverthe- 
less, the only hope. 
In a minute the girl 
had secured the 
coil of mountain- 
eering rope, and 
emerged with it in 
her hand ; as she 
came out, the 
flames seemed to 
rush after her and 
roar, but she 
managed to shut 
the window:, 

"Fasten it," he 

said, distinctly j 

"you can tie a reef 

knot, can't you ? M 

She obeyed, 

without a word, and let the 

end down to him. In a single 

moment, as it seemed to those 

watching, he had seized it, 

and was up on the narrow 

ledge beside her; no mean 

feat, even for one who had 

roughed it for years. And, 

as he gained it, the glass of the window 

was shivered, ami the flames rushed, 

whistling, out 

Standing himself outside the iron 
Original from 



rails, his feet between them, he lifted her 
in both arms. " Put your arms round my 
neck," he jerked out, under his breath, 
l( and hang on— cling to me with all your 
might, I must have both hands free. Now, 
are you ready ? " 

41 Yes, yes," she sobbed. "Oh, be quick, 
my feet are so scorched. Oh! the flames; 
my head !" 

He snatched the shawl she still held, and 
wrapped it right round her head, then, with 
infinite caution, began to descend, He had 
not time so much as to wrap a handkerchief 
round his bare hands : and, when he had let 
himself down from the railing, and their 
combined weight hung upon the rope, the 
pain was excruciating : but the convulsive 
grip of those clinging arms brought a fierce 
joy that held agony at bay. 

It was not a great distance to the ground, 
but it was Tar enough : for, just as his feet 
touched earth, and he heard the ringing cheer 
of the bystanders, her grasp relaxed, and she 
sank together in his arms, a dead weight. 

With a strange gentleness he pulled off the 
stifling shawl, and gazed at the small white 
face, soiled with smoke, and drawn with pain. 

" Is she hurt, oh, is she hurt ? " cried 
Maidie, rushing towards him* 

"The shoes are burnt off her feet, 
and her hair is singed," he said, in 
an odd, quavering voice that was 
hardly recognisable. u Where shall 
I carry her ? You must ascertain 
the injuries to her feet at once," 

11 And the injury to your hands, 11 
said a bystander, impulsively. 
" Heavens, man, you have cut them 
to the bone." 

'* Nothing of the sort," he returned, 
in ungrateful anger, muffling his 
hand? in his handkerchief. 

As he spoke, there was a dull 
crash. It was the fall of the stone 
shelf on which Claire had stood 
three minutes ago. 

The side of the hotel in which 
the Vanstons had their rooms was 
quite untouched by the fire, and, 
piloted by Maidie, he carried Claire 
up to her room, and laid her on the 
bed The ladies'-maid, a capable 
woman, was immediately in attend- 
ance, and there was no excuse for 
Ruthven to linger. He laid her ..- 
down out of his arms, with a slow, 
yearning tenderness that seemed as 
if it could not release her. Then 
he turned, and looked at Maidie, 

Digitized by Google 

and his usually hard grey eyes were luminous 
with tears, 

*' She went over there— to rouse me ? " he 
slowly said. 

Maidie nodded, politely showing him the 

u How do you know? " he wistfully asked» 
interposing his powerful frame in the door- 

"She told me so, and I should have 
stopped her if I could : but it was too late. 
She saw the gallery was catching fire, and she 
ran .... but I suppose you were not 
there? 1 ' 

" No, I was out, up the pass, I could not 

She held out her hand. " You came back 
just in time, 1 ' she said, gratefully, as she 
politely but firmly shut the door in his face. 

"Yes, she says she will see you this 
morning: she wants to thank you. But you 
must go up to the little salon, for she cannot 
stand yet. ,J 

John Ruthven followed Maidie up the 
stairs^ with his heart thumping wildly, and 
his great limbs actually shaking. It was a 
week since the fire, and Claire had suffered 
severely from shock. After galloping madly 


Jrigmal from 

1 88 


to Stockalper for the doctor, there had been 
nothing more for Ruthven to do. Freddie 
Vanston and Keene had returned, in the 
course of the next day, and there was no 
longer the least need for his, Ruthven's, 
services. Keene had been unable to bear 
the enforced inaction, and had gone to 
Belalp for a few days, until Miss Hurst 
should have recovered. He represented 
forcibly to Ruthven that it would be 
decidedly more graceful in him to retire too ; 
more especially as his bedroom had been 
completely burnt out. But no human 
persuasion would have availed to draw 
Ruthven from the spot : and only the clever 
little mistress of the hotel knew the secret of 
his domicile for the next few nights. The 
fire had been prevented from spreading, and 
by dint of turning the large salon in the 
ddpendance into a dining-room, the guests 
suffered the minimum of discomfort. 

And now she had said she wished to see 
him ; and, in the quiet and the remorse of 
the last few days, he had made up his mind 
what to say to her. 

The little salon was flooded with sunlight, 
and Claire lay on a sofa not far from the 
window, dressed in white, her bandaged feet 
hidden under a pale blue shawl. Ruthven 
had never seen her on a sofa, or in any sense 
an invalid before. She had seemed an imper- 
sonation of radiant health and independence. 
Now he felt himself a great clumsy brute 
before her. 

They shook hands calmly enough, with 
Maidie's eye upon them ; but Claire's look 
fixed itself upon the strappings of plaster 
visible upon his hands. His eyes followed 
her wistful gaze; and he coloured, and 
faltered in his unready commonplaces. In 
a minute or two, Freddie came calling for 
Maidie at the door, and she went out to him, 
leaving these two alone. 

Then Ruthven began to speak, at once, 
and blindly, in case his resolution should 

He sat with his hands clasped, and hang- 
ing between his knees, his eyes fixed on the 

"May I say something ?" he asked 

"Certainly," said she, as if a little 

"Well, this is about what it comes to : you 
tried to save my life that night at the risk of 
your own; you . . . hurt yourself in so doing. 
I want to tell you that I am not such a hound 
as not to know how generous that was, after 
the way I've treated you. In these days that 

Digitized by G< 

you have been ill, I have been thinking : and 
I don't feel very proud of the way I have 
behaved to you, all through. I don't expect 
you can ever forgive me, but I am going to 
atone, as far as I can. I will go away, and 
never trouble you again : and if you like, I 
will tell Keene I am a liar ; and .... and 
.... of course, I shall not carry out that 
low threat of mine, to find this man you .... 
care about, and tell him. I shall just take 
myself off, out of your way : but I felt as if I 

could not go without telling you that 

that " There was a long pause. 

Claire lay motionless and attentive, but 
no more was forthcoming ; and, after some 
long seconds of silence, Ruthven jumped up, 
and went to the window, standing with his 
back to her, and his hands in his pockets. 

" Do you mean that you have . . . forgiven 
me?" she said, at last. 

He laughed. " Have you forgiven me is 
perhaps more the question." 

" Why, if you forgive me because I tried 
to save you from being burnt alive, I must 
needs forgive you, who did actually save me 
from the same fate. I was glad, at the last 
minute, to be saved. I thought I wanted 
to die ; but being burned is too dreadful, 
and I turned coward." 

He moved round from the window. 

" You wanted to die ? " he repeated ; " you, 
who love a man that believes in you ? " 

" I never said I loved a man that believed 
in me," she cried, quickly. 

11 You said nothing could injure you in the 
eyes of the man you love." 

" You forgot to ask why : it is because 
nothing could make him think worse of me 
than he does already." 

" You mean to tell me the man you love 
thinks badly of you ? " 

She spread out her hands. "Naturally; 
he knows of me what you do." 

" Ah ! " he cried, with a sudden self- 
abandonment, as if the cry must find 
utterance ; " but, then, you do not love me ! " 

She was silent some while ; at last, " Do 
you mean that if you knew I loved you, you 
would believe in me?" she asked at last, 
very low. 

He came nearer, fixing his eyes on her. 

" If I knew you loved me — if I knew you 
loved me," he said, almost in a whisper. 
"There was the time when I thought you 
did, and when it seemed as if the heat of that 
love shrivelled up difficulties, and swept away 
obstacles. I had the strength and courage of 
ten men ; for your blessed sake I would be 
pure, and honourable, and strong and great 




Everything in me that was good broke into 
life at your touch. And then I found that I 
was not your lover, but your tool merely." 
His tones had risen ; he checked himself: in 
the full tide of passion he stopped short 
"Forgive me," he said, in a trembling voice, "I 
forgot you are ill I am a brute- -shall I go?" 
He was standing close to her, and she 
reached out, and softly grasped one of his 
injured hands, "Not till I have told you 
something," she gasped. "There is some- 
thing that he— that man I love — does not 
know, I want to tell you what it is, He 
thinks that I am— that kind of girl, that I 
had had practice in that sort of thing* He 
docs not know that that was the only time : 

that you are the only man who has ever " 

she hid her face in her hands. " I wanted to 
tell you that/' she faltered. 

you were — not a good man* I was ashamed 
to think that you had attracted me, I still 
thought that, when you came to Pebblebrook. 
I could not trust myself. It was not until 
after you were gone that I realized : that I 
understood the thing 1 had done. I have 
always known that I owed it to you to teR 
you this. Now, you have heard. Will it — 
will it make you think more kindly of me?" 
"You tell me this," said the bewildered 
man, " and you say the man you love does 
not know it ? " 

" Oh, yes, he does — he does ! " she cried, 
snatching her hand from his to hide her face 
again. " He did not know it, before : but he 
must know it now, he must know it now ! " 

He reached out, and drew away her hands 
from before her face. Their eyes met : and, 
in utter silence, some moments went by. 

Then the man drew a long 

"Yes," he said, firmly and 

clear, "He knows it now. I 

shall not insult you by asking 

you if you are trifling 

with me this time, 


" I love you— I 
have always loved 
you since that day on 
the piazza, Captain." 


In the pause that followed, he knelt down 
beside her couch : he would have spoken, 
but she silenced him with a gesture, 

" I want you to know why I did it," she went 
on, not daring to meet his eyes* " I mean, 
what put it into my head to conquer you. 
It was because, the very first moment we met, 
I felt you were stronger than L 1 had never 
felt that about any man before. I would 
not own it to myself, because then I thought 

Digitized by VjOOQI 

He leaned towards her, stretching out his 
arms; there rested on his face a strange 
radiance, as if a vision of great peace had 
broken on his sight. 

" And no man but me has ever kissed you?" 
he asked, with quivering breath. 

"No one, I always felt that you were 
somewhere in the world ; and there was 
always just the chance — the least chance — 
that you might want to kiss me again." 


From Behind the Speakers Chair. 



IN the leisure of 
possible coun t r y h ou sc 
premiers, life, and the con- 
fidence of the 
smoking-room, I have enjoyed 
opportunity of learning the 
views of a high authority on 
the delicate question of proxi- 
mate Premiers on either side. 
If I were permitted to name 
the oracle, his expressed views 
would gain alike in personal 
interest and in weight, That 
privilege is withheld ; but I 
am at liberty to record the 
dicta, which, though not 
professing to be a verbatim 
report of intermittent con- 
versation carried over some 
period, may be accepted as 
an accurate record, since it 
has been seen in proof by the 
statesman to whom I am 
indebted for permission to 
publish the review of the 
situation as it stands at the 
opening of a new Session, 

" Harcourt will 
never be Pre- 






harcourt. r ■ 

friend, u and t 

though not personally enamoured of his 
companj'; I profoundly regret it It is an 
unexpected, undeserved termination of a 
hard-working, brilliant, and, I believe, purely 
patriotic career, Harcourt has made great 
sacrifices of ease, time, and money for the 
public service. As you know, when he 
decided upon a political career he deli- 
berately sacrificed a huge and increasing 
income at the Parliamentary Bar. What he 
has since received in the way of Ministerial 
salary is probably not equal to sixpence in 
the pound on what he would have netted 
had he stuck to his work in the Committee- 
rooms upstairs As far as Ministerial life is 
concerned, ilUuck pursued him from the 
beginning. Scarcely had he, running in 
double harness with Henry James, worried 
Gladstone into making him, conjointly with 


his comrade, a Law Officer 
of the Crown, than the 
Liberals were swept out of 
Downing Street^ and re- 
mained in the wilderness for 
six years. 

"When in 1893 Mr, G,'s 
hint at desire to resign the 
Premiership was somewhat 
hurriedly snapped at by 
his stricken colleagues in 
the Cabinet, Harcourt had 
good reason to expect that 
the reversal of the office 
would fall to him, Perhaps 
it would, had not his temper 
been rather Plantagenet than 
ArchiepiscopaL He has a 
towering impatience of any- 
thing approaching— I don't 
say stupidity, but — mental 
slowness. At heart he is 
one of the kindest men in 
the world. But he has a 
way of sitting upon people, 
and, his weight being ele- 
phantine, the experience of 
the sufferer is neither for- 
gettable nor forgivable. The 
story goes that in January, 
1893, his colleagues in Mr, 
Gladstone's Cabinet with one accord began 
to make excuse from serving under him as 

by CiC 


Original from 



Premier. I don't know whether that's 
true. But I can testify that, very early 
in the run of the Rose her y Cabinet, there 
were persistent rumours of Hare nun's 
approaching resignation. I took the liberty 
of asking one of the 
least excitable of his 
colleagues whether 
there was any foun- 
dation for the report, 
1 I don't know what 
Harcourt is goin^ to 
do/ he said T £ but 
I'll tell you what. 
As things are going 
now, if he doesn't 
resign soon, we 

" There was evi- 
dently a tiff on at the 
time, which blew over, 
and they all lived 
happily after up to 
the unexpected and, 
i n or d i n ary circum- 
stances, inadequate 
cordite explosion, 

"Mr, G.'s resig- 
nation naturally 
opened up a pros- 
pect of Harcourt^ 
advancement to the 

vacant post. By common consent he had 
earned the preferment. There was no one 
on the Treasury- iJench of the House of 
Commons who might reasonably compete 
with him. That he should have been passed 
over in favour of a colleague of less than half 
his term of service, one who more than a 
dozen years earlier had actually served as his 
junior at the Home Office, was sufficient to 
disturb a temperament more equable than 
that of the Lord of Malwood. The late- 
comers to the toil of the vineyard, paid on 
equal terms with those who had laboured 
from break of day, were in quite ordinary 
case compared with Lord Rosebery exalted to 
the Premiership over the head of Sir William 
Harcourt But things were so ordained, and 
if, whilst acquiescing in the arrangement, 
Harcourt did not enthusiastically contribute 
to its success, it must be remembered that, 
after all, he too is human. 

11 The bitterness of the case is intensified by 
consciousness of irrevocable disappointment 
It was then or never. It was not then. If he 
were ten years younger the prospects would 
be different The success of leaving him to 
play second fiddle was not so conducive to 

Digitized by G^ 


harmony as to recommend renewal of the 
experiment The present Government will 
unquestionably live into the next century* 
In the year 1900 Harcourt will be seventy- 
three. That, of course, is not an impossible 

age for a Premier. 
When in August, 
18925 Mr. Gladstone 
for the fourth time 
became Prime Mini- 
ster, he was nearly 
ten years older. 
Palm erst on did not 
reach the Premier- 
ship till he was in 
his seventy-first year, 
and returned to the 
office when he was 
seventy - five. Karl 
Russell was for a 
few months First 
Lord of the Treasury 
at seventy-three* 
These were excep- 
tional eases, and at 
best do not supply 
precedent for a 
statesman in his 
seventy - third year 
for the first time 
succeeding to the 
Premiership. What 
has not been found convenable in past 
history will not grow more likely of acceptance 
in the more strenuous political times of the 
twentieth century. What Mr. G. is accus- 
tomed to call the incurable disease of old 
age will bar Sir William Harcourt's enjoyment 
of a justly-earned prize. 

"Lord Rosebery is still in the 
lord running, but is handicapped by 
rosebery. a disqualification that, when the 
time of trial comes, will prob- 
ably prove as fatal as that which, with quite 
different bearing, hampers his esteemed friend 
and former colleague. During his brief 
tenure of No, to, Downing Street, Rosebery 
left nothing to be desired from a Prime 
Minister — nothing save peace and harmony 
in the Cabinet In the concurrent office of 
Leader of the House of Lords he was with- 
out a rival, a foeman worthy of the sword 
of the veteran Leader of the Opposition. 
Regarded as a public speaker, he was as 
effective on the platform as in his place in 
Parliament In brief, he has but one dis- 
qualification for the high position to which 
he was called. He is a peer Even with 
the Conservatives, of whose party the House 
Original from 





of Lords is a rampart, the inconvenience of 
having the Premier outside the House of 
Commons is acutely felt. With Liberals such 
an arrangement is a contradiction of first 

" That the disqualification should have 
been overlooked in the case of Lord Rose- 
bery is the supremest recognition of his 
high capacity and his peculiar fitness for the 
post. But it is not an experiment that can 
be tried again. The Liberals can come back 
to power only as the result of deep stirring 
of the popular mind such as Mr, G. 
accomplished on the eve of the General 
Election of 1880, The militant section of 
the Liberal electorate, the men who move 
the army, have distinctly made up their minds 
that they will not have a peer for Premier, 
even though his lordship be so sound and 
thorough -going a Liberal as is the Earl of 
Rosebery* The Liberal Party, closing up its 
ranks for a pitched battle, cannot afford to 
march on to the battle ground with avoidable 
cause of dissension riving its ranks. If Lord 
Rosebery were plain Archibald Primrose he 
would as surely be Prime Minister in the 
next Liberal Government as it is certain that 
the whirligig of time will bring its revenges 
at the poll to the Liberal Party. But the 
Karl of Rosebcry is impossible. 

Digitized by Google 



" Rosebery's personal testimony on this 
point is interesting and conclusive. It 
will be found in his monograph on Fitt 3 
where, dwelling on the difficulty that sur- 
rounds the accident of the Prime Minister 
being seated in the House of Lords, he 
writes : 'It would be too much to maintain 
that all the members of a Cabinet should 
feel an implicit confidence in each other ; 
humanity— least of all, political humanity— 
could not stand so severe a test. But 
between a Prime Minister in the House of 
I^rds and the Leader of the House of 
Commons such a confidence is indispens- 
able. Responsibility rests so largely with 
the one, and articulation so greatly with the 
other, that unity of sentiment is the one 
necessary link that makes a relation, in any 
case difficult, in any way possible. The 
voice of Jacob and the hands of Esau may 
effect a successful imposture, but can hardly 
constitute a durable administration. 5, 

11 Apart from Sir William Har- 
court and Lord Rosebery, the 
Front Opposition Bench is not 
lacking in men who would make 
passable Premiers. Campbell- 
Bannerman for example, would be a model 
Leader of the House of Commons, and a 
safe Prime Minister. That he should not have 
come more rapidly and more prominently to 
the front is one of the unexpected turns of 
political life. The main reason is, I believe, 
that, uninfluenced by a well-known example 
in other quarters, he 
lets things slide. 
Stafford N ort h c o t e , 
harried by Randolph 
Churchill, once 
pa t he t i cal 1 y con fessed 
that he was * lacking 
in go/ Campbell- 
Bannerman is wanting 
in push. Someone 
has truly said that if 
he had been born to 
a patrimony not ex- 
ceeding ,£300 a year, 
he would long ago 
have been Leader of 
the House of Com- 
mons. A naturally 
indolent disposition 
completes the swamp- 
ing influence of exces- 
sive wealth, 

"Oddly enough, 
the only occasion 
since middle age when 

1 in 





he felt the blessed influence of personal 
ambition, and really strived to get himself 
a place, was when Peel retired from the 
Speakers Chair. Strange as it may seem, 
Camp hell -Banner man really, almost fervidly, 
desired to be Speaker, One of the reasons 
confided to me was quaint. He has a horror 
of recessional speech-making. When he gets 
a holiday he likes to have it all the way 
through. The Speaker is not expected to con- 
ciliate his constituents by making speeches in 
the recess, and Campbell- Ban nerman looked 
with large desire on an unruffled holiday from 
the date of the Prorogation to the opening 
of the new Session, He would have made 
a Speaker as good as the best of them. He 
has the judicial mind, the equable manner, 
the intellectual alertness, and the wide politi- 
cal and Parliamentary knowledge indispens- 
able to success in the Chain He 
is, moreover, master of that 
pawky humour grateful to the 
House of Commons, especially 
when it edges the sable mantle 
of the majesty of the Chair. His 
willingness to accept the office 
relieved the Government and the 
House from an awkward position- 
Whilst ready to fight anyone else, 
the Unionists would have accepted 
Campbell - Bannermarf. It was 
Harcourt who upset the coach. 
He raised constitutional objections 
to a Minister stepping out of the 
Cabinet into the Speakers Chair, 
1 believe he even threatened 
resignation if Campbell- Ban nerman 
insisted upon pressing claims to 
the Speakership, His colleagues' 
in the Cabinet, appalled by such 
a prospect, desisted from urging 
the candidature, and Campbell- 
Ban nerman, possibly not without 
grateful consciousness of having 
narrowly escaped a burdensome 
responsibility, acquiesced, 

"Sir Henry Fowler is another 
thoroughly safe man, perhaps a 
little too safe to aspire to satisfy 
the popular idea of a Prime 
He is more akin to the type of 
the present Lord Kimberley, and the late 
Lord Iddesleigh, than to that either of Mr. 
Disraeli or Mr, Gladstone. Yet few men of 
less than twenty years' standing in the House 
of Commons have made such steady advance 
in their political career as has the ex-Mayor 
of Wolverhampton. Whatever he has been 
appointed to do, he has done well Some- 

times, notably in his speech on Henry 
James's motion raising the question of the 
Indian Cotton Duties, he has revealed to the 
House unsuspected depths of statesmanship 
and debating power. His conduct of the 
Parish Councils Bill was a masterpiece of 
adroit Parliamentary management. As an 
all-round Minister, a dependable man, he has 
no superior on either Front Bench. I am not 
sure that that is the type in which successful 
Prime Ministers are cast. It might possibly 
be better for the country if such were the 
case. But I am dealing with matters as we 
find them. 

M Assuming, of course, that they 
one of live and work, 1 think you will 
two, find a future—I do not say 
absolutely the next — Liberal 
Prime Minister in one of two of Sir William 
Har court's colleagues on the Front 
Opposition Bench. If you ask 
Asquith which of the two will 
come out first in the running, he 
will have no difficulty in deciding. 
He is not a man who wears his 
heart upon his sleeve, nor is he 
given to vain boasting. Yet eight 
years ago, whilst he could not be 
said as yet to have made his mark 
upon the House of Commons, I 
heard him, at a friend's dinner 
table, quietly announce that he 
intended some day to be Prime 
Minister, The third party to the 
conversation was Lord Randolph 
Churchill, who afterwards agreed 
with me that the aspiration, bold 
as it seemed at that time, was by 
no means improbable of fulfil- 



" What Asquith lacks 
for the rapid achieve- 
ment of his settled 
is more blood* 
plenty, and of 
He is failing 


sir H, 



by Google 


*£f asquith, 


Iron he has 

excellent quality 
in that sympathetic touch with the multitude 
which was one of the chief and abiding 
causes of Mr. G,'s supreme power. Asquith 
addressing a mass of humanity, whether in 
the House of Commons or from a public 
platform, can bring conviction to the mind. 
He cannot touch the passions. His hard, 
somewhat gauche manner is, I believe, due 
rather to shyness than to self-assertion. 
That is a hopeful diagnosis, for it implies 
the possibility of his sometime letting him- 
self go, with results that will astonish his 
audience and himself. At present he is too 

Original from 




cold-blooded, too canny, to capture the 

"It was characteristic of him that, on losing 
his position as Cabinet Minister and Secretary 
of State for the Home Department, he should 
have gone back to the drudgery of the Bar, 
to plead before judges whose decisions in 
matters of life and death he but the day before 
was empowered to override. The decision 
was, in some aspects, creditable to him. To an 
able-bodied, high-spirited man nothing can be 
mure distasteful than the lot of living upon 
a wife's dowry, Asquith w T ould have done 
well if he had found any other means of 
satisfying his honourable instincts. In 
political life, when running for the highest 
prizes, the axium that no man can serve two 
masters is pitilessly true. Even to attain 
ordinary success in the House of Commons 
a- man must spend his 
days and nights in the 
Chamber Apart from the 
conflict of interests and 
the imperativeness of 
diverse calls, there is one 
inexorable matter of fact 
that makes it impossible 
for a Leader at the Bar 
to concurrently fill the 
place of a Leader in the 
House of Commons, The 
House now meets at three 
o'clock, Public business 
commences half an hour 
later, and it frequently 
happens that the portion 
of the sitting allotted to 
questioning Ministers is 
the most important of the 
whole. A member absent 
through the question hour 
cannot possibly he in close 
touch with the business of 
the daj. This is more 
imperatively true in times 
of storm and stress, It 
is obvious that, as the 
Courts of Law do not usually rise before 
five o'clock, a member of the House ot 
Commons in close attendance on his private 
business at the Bar cannot be in his place at 
Westminster during the lively, often critical, 
episode of questions. 

" Knowledge of this detail will help to 
explain the conviction borne in upon old 
Parliamentary hands that, in returning to 
the Bar, Asquith seriously 
himself in the race for the 




heard Mr. 
only man 


his work at 



by Google 

" Asquith's only rival in sight 
among the younger men in the 
Liberal camp is the grand-nephew 
of the great Earl Grey. I have 
G. say Edward Grey is the 
he knew in the long course 
of his experience who might be anything he 
pleased in political life and seemed content 
to be hardly anything. The public know 
little of the young member for Berwick on - 
Tweed. The present House of Commons 
knows little more, and was, perhaps, not 
deeply impressed by the rare opportunity of 
forming a judgment supplied towards the 
close of last Session. 

"It is Gladstone and other Nestors 
of the Party whose profound belief in the 
young man fixes attention upon him. Here, 
even more hopelessly thnn in the case of 
Campbell-Bannerman, the 
potentialities of a possibly 
great career are influenced 
by total absence of push- 
fulness. Ed w a r d Grey does 
not want anything but to 
be left alone, supplied 
with good tackle, and 
favoured by fine weather 
for fishing. He would 
rather catch a twenty- 
pound salmon in the 
Tweed than hook a fat 
seal of office in the neigh- 
bourhood of Downing 
Street, But he is only 
thirty-five, just ten years 
younger than Asquith, and 
no one can say what 
chances and changes the 
new century may bring." 

It will be per- 
the other ceived that/ 
SIDE, enjoying the 
of the pen that merely 
transcribes these obiter 
dkta for the Press, I have 
not attempted to blunt any or their frankness. 
My Mentor was equally unconventional in 
subsequent conversations in which he re- 
viewed the chances of succession to the 
Premiership on the other side. That is a 
record that will keep till next month. 

The House of Commons was 

sir Isaac distinctly poorer when on the 

holden. eve of the General Election of 

1895 Sir Isaac H olden resolved 

not to offer himself for re-election. During 

the recess the world became poorer by his 

Original from 




death, He was in various ways a type of 
the best class of Englishman. His father 
was a Cumberland man; he was born in 
Scotland ; he lived and worked in Yorkshire 
More than thirty years ago, having accumu- 
lated a vast fortune, he bent his thoughts on 
Westminster, He was elected for Knares- 
borough towards the close of the Session of 
1865, and represented that borough till the 
General Election of 186& At the dissolution 
he flew at higher game, fight- 
ing the Eastern Division of 
the West Riding. But even 
the high tide that carried 
Mr, Gladstone into power 
in 1868 could not establish 
a liberal in that Tory strong- 

Four years later Isaac 
Hulden tried the Northern 
Division of the West Riding 
with similar ill-fortune. At 
the General Election of 
1874 he attacked the East- 
ern Division again, and was 
again beaten. But he was 
not the kind of man to 
accept defeat, whether in 
dealing with wool-combing 
machinery or politics. In 
1882 he made a dash at 
the North-West Riding and 
carried it. At the time of 
his retirement from Parlia- 
mentary life he was seated 
for the Keighley Division of 
the same Riding. 

I do not remember hearing Sir 
Isaac speak during the thirteen 
years I knew him in the House 
of Commons. But he was an 
assiduous attendant upon his Parliamentary 
duties. Through the turbulent times which 
saw Mr. Gladstone's Home Rule BRl carried 
through the House of Commons, there was 
none among the meagre majority of forty 
upon whom the Ministerialist whip counted 
with more certainty than the octogenarian 
member for Keighley Division. One night 
when the Bill was being forced through Com- 
mittee by the automatic action of the closure, 
Sir Isaac took part in every one of ten 
divisions which the Unionists insisted upon 
walking through* So high did party feeling 
run at the moment, that Mr. Villiers came 
down to the House and voted in the first two 
rounds taken immediately after ten o'clock, 
when the closure came into operation. Aftet 
that, he reasonably thought he had done 





by Google 

enough to save his country, and went off 
home. But though Ninety judiciously retired, 
two members of more than Eighty stopped to 
the last, going round and round the lobbies 
for two hours on a sultry night One was 
Mr, Gladstone, then approaching his eighty- 
fifth year, The other was Isaac Holden, two 
years the senior of the Premier, 

Meeting Sir Isaac after one of the divisions, 
I asked him if he did not think he would be 
better in bed, 

11 Not at all," he said, 
with his bright smile. " You 
know, I always walk a couple 
of miles every night before 
I go to bed. I have stepped 
the division lobbies, and find 
that the length traversed is 
as nearly as possible 300 
yards. You see, if they give 
us nine divisions, I shall 
have done a trifle over a 
mile, and will have so much 
less to walk on my way 

As it turned out, ten divi- 
sions were taken at this 
particular sitting, those two 
young fellows, Mr. Gladstone 
and Isaac Holdcn, walking 
itriskly through each one. 
When it was over, Sir Isaac 
went out to complete his 
two miles, taking Birdcage 
Walk on his way to his 
rooms in the Westminster 
Palace Hotel, 
Much has been said and written 
about his peculiar dieting. He 
certainly was most methodical 
An orange, a baked apple, a 
biscuit made from bananas, and twenty 
grapes — neither more nor less — made up his 
breakfast. He dined lightly in the middle 
of the day, and supped in the bounteous 
fashion of his breakfast. No whim of 
this kind was ever more fully justified. 
Almost up to the last Sir Isaac walked with 
rapid step, his back as straight as a dart, his 
eyes retaining their freshness, his cheek its 
bloom. It was his pride that he had grapes 
growing all through the year in his vinery at 
Oak worth House, near Bradford. During his 
stay in Ixindon he had the fruit sent up every 
day, When, some years ago, I visited him 
at Gakworthjie was at the time of my arrival 
out walking on the moor. Coming in, having 
done his then accustomed seven miles' spin, 
he insisted upon straightway escorting his 





guest all over the spacious winter garden. 
One of his panaceas for lengthening your 
days was to live in an equable temperature. 
Sixty degrees was, he concluded, the right 
thing, and as he walked about bareheaded he 
begged me to observe how equable the 
temperature was. It may have been, but it 
was decidedly chilly. As he wore no hat I 
could not keep mine on ? and caught a cold 
that lingered till I left Yorkshire. 

Another time, he and I, being neigh- 
bours in London, driving home From 
the house of a mutual friend where we 
had foregathered at dinner, he stopped the 
carriage at the top of St James's Street and 
got out to walk the rest of the way home. It 
was raining in torrents, but that did not 
matter. He had not, up to this time, com- 
pleted his regulation walk, and it must be 
done before he went to bed. 

Thus day by day he wound himself up 
with patient regularity, living a pure and 
beautiful life, dying with all that should ac- 
company old age, as honour, 
love, obedience, troops of 
friends. If he suffered any 
disappointment in his clos- 
ing hours, it would be 
bee i use Death came to him 
at the comparatively early 
age of ninety-one. One day 



he told me in the most matter-of fact manner 
that, given an ordinary good constitution at 
birth 3 there was no reason in the world why 
a man should not live to celebrate his 
hundredth birthday. 

At Folkestone the other day, 
I came across a tradition of 
the time when Baron de Worms, 
then a member of the House of 
Commons, was an occasional resident on the 
l^eas, Combining business with pleasure, 
he, on one occasion, took part in a political 
meeting in anticipation of the General 
Election of 1892, which meant so much to 
him and to others, "The noble baron/' as 
the late Sir Robert Peel, in a flash of that 
boisterous humour that delighted the 
House of Commons, once called the member 
for the East Toxteth Division of Liverpool, 
desirous of casting a glamour of ancient 
nobility over the cause of the friend it was 
his object to serve, dwelt with pardonable 
pride on his own lineage, 

"My brothers are barons," 
he said ; " my great-grand- 
?^ father was a baron ; my 

grandfather was baron ; my 
father was bar on." 

"Pity your mother wasn't 
the same/' cried a voice from 
the crowd. 

*A £JA|(ON OK HIGH PKCN|.:f-:< 

f^ru"*nL" fc Original from 


Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of their Lives. 

em a 1'hotQ. by] 

lliw-nti & ?-oii. 

Born i860. 
|R. SOLOMON was educated pri 
\ vately, and at Whitford's School 
For his art training he studied at 
Heatherley's, the R.A. Schools, 
the Munich Academy, and at 
the Beaux Arts, Paris, To complete his 
training he travelled on the Continent, 
and painted pictures in Italy, Spain, 

From a Ph&io. br\ MS* i3* L Amenta fa * Elate, 

and Morocco, In 1893 and the following 
year he painted the portraits of Mrs, 
Patrick Campbell and Mr. I. Zangwill, 
which received universal approval. The 
picture which, however, first brought him 
any reputation was u Cassandra," now in 

by Google 

Ballarat ; u Samson " and u Niobe" follow- 
ing, and an allegorical work, " Sacred and 
Profane Love/' with a portrait of Sir John 

From ft phnia. bv] 


[K J\uhn^Aqtn» 

Simon ; whilst at the Salon of 1889 he re- 
ceived a medal for "Niobe." Mr, Solomon 
was elected a member of the Institute in 
1887, and in 1896 was elected to the 
Associateship of the Royal Academy. 


From a Photo, by 11- S. JfcwfetooAif, Ptmbrido* Or&ecnL 

Original from 





Born 1829, 

ing, Poet, Mathe- 
matician, Philo- 
sopher, Oriental- 
ist, and Scient- 

of the world. As a public 
speaker he is considered 
second to none in Europe, 
whilst he speaks fluently 
English, French, German, 
Italian, and Spanish. His 
private liberality to struggling 
artists is proverbial, and his 
interest and support in all 

AGE 1 8. 
Prom a J J i-ij*f. 

£* I'trtJTi > r i 

I / 'fatiOQ-rajltl, 

ist ! Oscar II. of Sweden and Norway is all 
that, and more. His Majesty has attained an 
absolutely unique position as an arbitrator in 
questions of International importance, and is 


*™- 43 

I K.fji ■!' mi •■: 

thus often called upon to adjudicate upon 
matters that affect the most distant peoples 

Digitized by GoOglC 

F™" 1 ^1 AGE 55. [Phtitt^jvjth. 

Arctic exploration schemes are not less known. 
His Majesty is the first to acknowledge that 
much of his success in life is due to the devoted 
companionship of Queen Sophia, whose 
portraits we reproduce on the opposite page. 

From a Photo. by) present day. U-. Plormant titodthot up 

-_- M L| 1 1 1 >.1 1 TTO Nl 







and habits differ to a 
marked degree, The 
Queen's sweetness of 
disposition and kind- 
ness of heart are, as 
in the case of Queen 

of Sweden and Norway has been unable to take 
any active part in Court and public functions; yet 
by more passive means Her Majesty has steadily 
worked and organized, winning for herself an 
enviable place in the hearts of the people of 
all classes in her country, Her own sufferings 
have, if possible, accentuated the feeling of 
sympathy for other sufferers, and especially 
those of the poorer classes, hence the develop- 
ment of her wonder- 
ful organizing 
powers in works 
of chanty and the 
building of hos- 
pitals throughout 
the land, Among 
these there is 
4i The Sophia 
Home/- a model 
hospital situated in 
Stockholm, in the 
conduct of which 
she takes the 
greatest interest 
and a most active 
part. Her Majesty 
has done much 
in helping Fv i iilj 
Oscar in the very 
difficult task of 
ruling, under one 
sceptre, two nations 
whose very customs 

frfnu a 

fr i'i'f ?>, 

AGE 50. 

From a pkttift. by f.f. FEar/fttm, .SIodtAofm. 

Victoria, always para- 
mount in all her deal- 
ings. Queen Sophia, who 
is seven years younger 
than the King, is the 
daughter of the late Duke 
William of Nassau, and 
was married to King 
Oscar in J Line, 1857. Their 
coronation took place on 

^» , J ul y iSth > i8 7j< 

Original from 


Phcto. bv Auvmtl a\«e 6. [Bulch, Urnta 

Bohn: 1859, 
iR. NACHEZ, the 
clever and well-known 
violinist, is of Hungar- 
^J£f ian nationality, though 
he has made England 
his home. His taste for music was 
not inherited, and his adoption of 
a musical career is due to his early 
and fortunate acquaintance with 
Liszt The master would insist 
on Nachez playing ducts with him, 


under Joachim 
and Leonard, 
he made a suc- 
cessful difrul 
in Paris. Mr, - 
Nachez first 
came over to 
this country in 
1S87; since 
then he has be 
come extreme* 
ly popular, and 
has played 
twice by com- 
mand before 
the Queen. 
Mr, Nachez is 
a prolific com- 
poser. His 
are, among 
others, a Re- 
quiem Mass ; 
a Concerto in 
E minor, for 
violin and or- 
chestra, which has bten played in 
Munich, Dresden, and Prague; a 
Suite, in five movements, for piano- 
forte and violin; two Hungarian 
rhapsodies; a Swedish rhapsody; 
nm>**w*±*!^mm*m* a set of four Hungarian dances j 

and various other productions. 


AGE 18L 
iiit-iu j'Evth. 

AGE 36, 

Pktfo. If Mwi age r& \MaritHbad. 

and the taste thus acquired was further 
developed when Hans Richter, the famous 
conductor, became a frequent visitor at 
the house of young Nachex After studying 

Digitized by G* 

fftffe Bf] 

ginal from 



A Safety Match* 

By W. W. Jacobs. 

R. BOOM, late of the mercantile 
marine, had the last word, but 
only by the cowardly expedient 
of getting out of earshot of his 
daughter first, and then hurling 
it at her with a voice trained 
to compete with hurricanes. Miss Boom 
avoided a complete defeat by leaning forward 
with her head on one side in the attitude of 
an eager but unsuccessful listener, a pose 
which she abandoned for one of innocent 
joy when her sire, having been deluded into 
twice repeating his remarks, was fain to relieve 
his overstrained muscles by a fit of violent 

" 1 b'leeve she heard it all along, 7 ' said Mr, 
Boom, sourly, as he continued his way down 
the winding lane to the little 
harbour below. " The only way 
to live at peace with wimrnen is 
to always be at sea ; then they 
make a fuss of you when you 
come home— if you don't stay 
too long* that is." 

He reached the quay, with 
its few tiny cottages and brown 
nets spread about to dry in the 
sun t and walking up and down, 
grumbling, regarded with a 
jaundiced eye a few small 
smacks which lay in the 
harbour and two or three 
crusted amphibians lounging 
aimlessly about, 

" Morn in', Mr* Boom/ 1 said 
a stalwart youth in sea-boots, 
appearing suddenly over the 
edge of the quay from his boat. 

" Mornin 1 , Dick/ 1 said Mr. 
Boom, affably; "just goin'off?'* 

" 'Bout an hour's time," said 
the other ; " Miss Boom well, 

" She's a 1 right," said Mr. Boom ; "me an' 
her *ve just had a few words. She picked up 
something off the floor what she said was a 
cake €? mud off my heel Said she wouldn't 
have it," continued Mr, Boom, his voice 
rising. " My own floor, too. Swep 7 it up 
off the floor with a dustpan and brush, and 
held it in front of me to look at" 

Dick Tarrell gave a grunt which might 
mean anything — Mr. Boom took it for 

"I called her old maid," he said, with 
gusto ; " ' you're a fidgety old maid, 1 I said. 

Vol, *r + -28 + 

You should ha* seen her look. Do you 
know what I think, Dick ?' T 

"Not exactly," said Tarrell, cautiously, 

** I b'leeve she's that savage that she'd take 
the first man that asked her," said the other, 
triumphantly; "she's sitting up there at the 
door of the cottage, all by herself" 

Tarrell sighed. 

"With not a soul to speak to," said Mr. 
Boom, pointedly* 

The other kicked at a small crab which 
was passing, and returned it to its native 
element in sections. .,.._- 

"I'M vralk up 

by Google 


there with you if you're going that way," he 
said, at length. 

11 No, Vu\ just having a look round,' 1 said 
Mr, Boom, "but there's nothing to hinder 
you going, Dick, if you've a mind to," 

"There's no little thing you want, as I'm 
going there, I s'pose ? w suggested Tarrell. 
" It's awkward when you go there and say, 
'Good morning,' and the girl says, 'Good 
morning,' and then you don't say any more 
and she don't say any more. If there was 
anything you wanted that I could help her 
look for, it 'ud make talk easier." 

Original from 



" Well — go for my baccy pouch," said Mr. 
Boom, after a minuted thought, "it'll take 
you a long time to find that." 

" Why ? " inquired the other. 

" 'Cos I've got it here," said the un- 
scrupulous Mr. Boom, producing it, v and 
placidly filling his pipe. " You might spend 
—ah — the best part of an hour looking for 

He turned away with a nod, and Tarrell, 
after looking about him in a hesitating fashion 
to make sure that his movements were not 
attracting the attention his conscience told 
him they deserved, set off in the hang-dog 
fashion peculiar to nervous lovers up the 
road to the cottage. Kate Boom was sitting 
at the door as her father had described, and, 
in apparent unconsciousness of his approach, 
did not raise her eyes from her book. 

" Good morning," said Tarrell, in a husky 

Miss Boom returned the salutation, and, 
marking the place in her book with her fore- 
finger, looked over the hedge on the other 
side of the road to the sea beyond. 

" Your father has left his pouch behind, 
and being as I was coming this way, asked 
me to call for it," faltered the young man. 

Miss Boom turned her head, and, regarding 
him steadily, noted the rising colour and the 
shuffling feet 

"Did he say where he had left it?" she 

" No," said the other. 

" Well, my time's too valuable to waste 
looking for pouches," said Kate, bending 
down to her book again, " but if you like to 
go in and look for it, you may ! " 

She moved aside to let him pass, and sat 
listening with a slight smile as she heard him 
moving about the room. 

" I can't find it," he said, after a pretended 

" Better try the kitchen now, then," said 
Miss Boom, without looking up, " and then 
the scullery. It might be in the woodshed 
or even down the garden. You haven't half 

She heard the kitchen door close behind 
him, and then, taking her book with her, 
went upstairs to her room. The conscien- 
tious Tarrell, having duly searched all the 
above-mentioned places, returned to the 
parlour and waited. He waited a quarter of 
an hour, and then going out by the front door 
stood irresolute. 

" I can't find it," he said, at length, 
addressing himself to the bedroom window. 

" No. I was coming down to tell you," 

by Google 

said Miss Boom, glancing sedately at him 
from over the geraniums. "I remember 
seeing father take it out with him this 

Tarrell affected a clumsy surprise. " It 
doesn't matter," he said. "How nice your 
geraniums are." 

" Yes, they're all right," said Miss Boom, 

" I can't think how you keep 'em so nice," 
said Tarrell. 

"Well, 'don't try," said Miss Boom, kindly. 
" You'd better go back and tell father about 
the pouch. Perhaps he's waiting for a smoke 
all this time." 

" There's no hurry," said the young man ; 
" perhaps he's found it." 

" Well, I can't stop to talk," said the girl ; 
11 I'm busy reading." 

With these heartless words she withdrew 
into the room, and the discomfited swain, 
only too conscious of the sorry figure he cut, 
went slowly back to the harbour, to be met 
by Mr. Boom, with a wink of aggravating and 
portentous dimensions. 

" You've took a long time," he said, slyly. 
"There's nothing like a little scheming in 
these things." 

"It didn't lead to much," said the dis- 
comfited Tarrell. 

" Don't be in a hurry, my lad," said the 
elder man, after listening to his experiences. 
" I've been thinking over this little affair for 
some time now, an' I think I've got a plan." 

" If it's anything about baccy pouches " 

began the young man, ungratefully. 

"It ain't," interrupted Mr. Boom, "it's 
quite diff'rent. Now, you'd best get aboard 
your craft and do your duty. There's more 
young men won girls' 'arts while doing of their 
duty than — than — if they wasn't doing their 
duty. Do you understand me?" 

It is inadvisable to quarrel with a pro- 
spective father-in-law, so that Tarrell said he 
did, and with a moody nod tumbled into his 
boat and put off to the smack. Mr. Boom 
having walked up and down a bit, and 
exchanged a few greetings, bent his steps in 
the direction of the "Jolly Sailor," and, 
ordering two mugs of ale, set them down on 
a small bench opposite his old friend Raggett. 

" I see young Tarrell go off grumpy-like," 
said Raggett, drawing a mug towards him, 
and gazing at the fast-receding boats. 

" Aye, we'll have to do what we talked 
about," said Boom, slowly. " It's opposition 
what that gal wants. She simply sits and 
mopes for the want of somebody to contra- 
dict her." 

Original from 




u Well, why don't you do it ?" said Raggett, 
"That ain*t much for a father to do, surely.'' 

u I hev/said the other, slowly, " more than 
once. 0' course, when I insist upon a thing, 


it's done, but a woman's a delikit creeter, 
Raggett, and the last row we had she got that 
ill that she couldn't get up to^et my breakfast 
readv, no, nor my dinner either. It made us 
both ill, that did." 

"Arc you going to tell Tarrell? " inquired 

" No," said his friend, " Like as not he'd 
tell her just to curry favour with her. I'm 
going to tell him he's not to come to the 
house no more. That'll make her want him 
to come, if anything will, Now, there's no 
use wasting time, You begin to-day," 

"I don't know what to say," murmured 
Raggett, nodding to him as he raised the 
beer to his lips. 

" Just go now and call in— you might take 
her a nosegay," 

" I won't do nothing so darned silly," 
said Raggett, shortly, 

" Well, go without J em," said Boom, im- 
patiently ; ( *just go, and get yourselves talked 
about, that's all — have everybody making 
game of both of you. Talking about a 
good-looking young girl being sweethearted 
by an old chap with one foot in the grave 
and a face like a dried herring. That's what 
I want" 

Mr. Raggett, who was just about to drink, 

by Google 

put his mug down again and regarded his 

friend fixedly. " Might I ask who you're 

alloodin' too?" he inquired, somewhat shortly 

Mr. Boom brought up in mid-career, 

shuffled a little 
and laughed un- 
easily. ''Them 
ain't my words, 
old chap," he said; 
M it was the way 
she was speaking 
of you the other 

" Well, I won't 
'ave not hiiV to do 
with it," said Rag- 
gett, rising. 

"Well, nobody 
needn't know any- 
thing about it," 
said Boom, pull- 
ing him down to 
his s^at again. 
^She wont Lell, 
I'm sure -- she 
wouldn't like the 
disgrace of it/ 1 

11 Look here," 
said Raggett, get- 
ting up again. 
"I mean from her point of view,' 5 said 
Mr. Boom, querulously ; "you're very asty, 

" Well, I don't care about it," said Raggett, 
slowly; "it seemed all right when we was 
talking about it ; but s'pose I have all my 
trouble for nothing, and she don't take Dick 
after all ? What then?" 

41 Well, then there's no harm done," said 
his friend, " and it'll be a bit o' sport for 
both of us, You go up and start, an' 1*11 
have another pint of beer and a clean pipe 
waiting for you against you come back." 

Sorely against his belter sense, Mr. Rag- 
gett rose and went off", grumbling. It was 
fatiguing work on a hot day climbing the 
road up the cliff, but he took it quietly, and 
having gained the top, moved slowly towards 
the cottage. 

(t Morning, Mr. Raggett," said Kate, 
cheerily, as he entered Lhe cottage. "Dear, 
dear, the idea of an old man like you climb- 
ing about, it's wonderful." 

" I'm sixty-seven," said Mr, Raggett, 

viciously, " and I feel as young as ever I did," 

" To be sure," said Kate, soothingly ; " and 

look as young as ever you did. Come in 

and sit down a bit." 

Mr. Raggett with some trepidation corn- 
Original from 



plied, and, sitting in a very upright position, 
wondered how he should begin. " I'm just 
sixty-seven," he said, slowly. "I'm not old 
and I'm not young, but I'm just old enough 
to begin to want somebody to look after me 
a bit." 

" I shouldn't while I could get about if I 
were you," said the innocent Kate. " Why 
not wait until you're bed-ridden ? " 

" I don't mean that at all," said Mr. 
Raggett, snappishly. " I mean I'm thinking 
of getting married." 

" Good — gracious ! " said Kate, open- 

" I may have one foot in the grave and 
resemble a dried herring in the face," pursued 
Mr. Raggett, with bitter sarcasm, " but " 

" You can't help that," said Kate, gently. 

" But I'm going to get married," said 
Raggett, savagely. 

" Well, don't get in a way about it," said 
the girl. " Of course, if you want to, and — 
and — you can find somebody else who wants 
to, there's no reason why you shouldn't ! 
Have you told father about it? " 

"I have," said Mr. Raggett, "and he has 
given his consent." 

He put such meaning into this remark, 
and so much more in the contortion of visage 
which accompanied it, that the girl stood 
regarding him in blank astonishment. 

"His consent?" she said, in a strange 

Mr. Raggett nodded. 

" I went to him first," he said, trying to 
speak confidently. " Now I've come to you 
— I want you to marry me ! " 

" Don't you be a silly old man, Mr. 
Raggett," said Kate, recovering her com- 
posure. " And as for my father, you go back 
and tell him I want to see him." 

She drew aside and pointed to the door, 
and Mr. Raggett, thinking that he had done 
quite enough for one day, passed out and 
retraced his steps to the "Jolly Sailor." 
Mr. Boom met him half-way, and, having 
received his message, spent the rest of the 
morning in fortifying himself for the reception 
which awaited him. 

It would be difficult to say which of the 
two young people was the more astonished at 
this sudden change of affairs. Miss Boom, 
affecting to think that her parent's reason was 
affected, treated him accordingly, a state of 
affairs not without its drawbacks, as Mr. 
Boom found out. Tarrell, on the other hand, 
attributed it to greed, and being forbidden 
the house, spent all his time ashore on a stile 
nearly opposite, and sullenly watched events. 

by Google 

For three weeks Mr. Raggett called daily, 
and after staying to tea, usually wound up 
the evening by formally proposing for Kate's 
hand. Both conspirators were surprised and 
disappointed at the quietness with which 
Miss Boom received these attacks ; Mr. 
Raggett meeting with a politeness which was 
a source of much wonder to both of them. 

His courting came to an end suddenly. 
He paused one evening with his hand on the 
door, and having proposed in the usual 
manner, was going out, when Miss Boom 
called him back. 

" Sit down, Mr. Raggett," she said, calmly. 

Mr. Raggett, wondering inwardly, re- 
sumed his seat. 

" You have asked me a good many times 
to marry you," said Kate. 

" I have," said Mr. Raggett, nodding. 

" And I'm sure it's very kind of you," con- 
tinued the girl, " and if I've hurt your feelings 
by refusing you, it is only because I have 
thought perhaps I was not good enough for 

In the silence which followed this unex- 
pected and undeserved tribute to Mr. 
Raggett's worth, the two old men eyed each 
other in silent consternation. 

" Still, if you've made up your mind," 
continued the girl, " I don't know that it's 
for me to object. You're not much to look 
at, but you've got the loveliest chest of 
drawers and the* best furniture all round in 
Mastleigh. And I suppose you've got a 
little money ? " 

Mr. Raggett shook his head, and in a 
broken voice was understood to say : " A 
very little." 

" I don't want any fuss or anything of that 
kind," said Miss Boom, calmly. " No brides- 
maids or anything of that sort ; it wouldn't 
be suitable at your age." 

Mr. Raggett withdrew his pipe, and, hold- 
ing it an inch or two from his mouth, listened 
like one in a dream. 

"Just a few old friends, and a bit of cake," 
continued Miss Boom, musingly. " And 
instead of spending a lot of money in foolish 
waste, we'll have three weeks in London." 

Mr. Raggett made a gurgling noise in his 
throat, and suddenly remembering himself, 
pretended to think that it was something 
wrong with his pipe, and removing it blew 
noisily through the mouthpiece. 

" Perhaps," he said, in a trembling voice — 
" perhaps you'd better take a little longer to 
consider, my dear." 

Kate shook her head. " I've quite made up 
my mind," she said, "quite. And now I 

Original from 


fo S 


bHE SAID,'" 

MY Ml.N"[i f 

want to marry you just as much as you want 
to marry me. Good-night, father ; good-night 
— George/ 1 

Mr, Raggett started violently, and collapsed 
in his chair. 

" Raggett,' 1 said Mr. Boom, huskily, 

"Don't talk tome," said the other, " I 
can't bear it." 

Mr. Boom, respecting his friend's trouble, 
relapsed into silence again T and for a long 
time not a word was spoken. 

" My ? ed J s in a whirl," said Mr. Raggett, at 

" It 'ud be a wonder if it wasn't," said Mr. 
Boom, sympathetically. 

fct To think," continued the other, miser- 
ably, M how Ive been let in for this. The plots 
an' the plans and the artfulness what's been 
goin' on round me, an' I've never seen it" 

"What d'ye mean?" demanded Mr. 
Boom, with sudden violence. 

" [ know what I mean," said Mr, Raggett, 

" P'r'aps you'll tell me, then," said the other. 

" Who thought of it first ? " demanded Mr. 
Raggett, ferociously. "Who came to me 
and asked me to court his slip of a girl ? " 

" Don't you he a 5 old fool," said Mr. Boom, 
heatedly. " It's done now, and what's done 
can't be undone. 1 never thought to have a 
son-in-law seven or eight years older thati 

what I am, and what's 
more, I don't want it." 
"Said I wasn't much 
to look at, but she liked 
my chest o' drawers," 
repeated Raggett, 

" Don't ask me 
where she gets her 
natur' from, cos I 
couldn't tell you," 
said the unhappy 
parent ; " she don't 
get it from me." 

Mr, Raggett allowed 
this reflection upon 
the late Mrs, Boom 
to pass unnoticed, 
and taking his hat 
from the table fixed 
it firmly upon his 
head, and gazing with 
scornful indignation 
upon his host, stepped 
slowly out of the door 
without going through 
the formality of bid- 
ding him good-nig lit, 
"George," said a voice from above him, 
Mr, Raggett started, and glanced up at 
somebody leaning from the window, 

"Come in to tea to-morrow, early," said 
the voice, pressingly ; "good-night, dear." 

Mr. Raggett turned and fled into the 
night, dimly conscious that a dark figure had 
detached itself from the stile opposite, and 
was walking beside him. 

"That you, Dick ?" he inquired, nervously, 
after an oppressive silence. 

"That's me," said I)ick + M heard her 
call you ' dear/ " 

Mr. Raggett, his face suffused with blushes, 
hung his head. 

"Called you 'dear,'" repeated Dick; "I 
heard her say it. I'm going to pitch you in 
the harbour. I'll learn you to go courting a 
young girl, What are you stopping for ? " 

Mr, Raggett delicately intimated that he 
was stopping because he preferred, all things 
considered, to be alone* Finding the young 
man, however, bent upon accompanying him, 
he divulged the plot of which he had been the 
victim, and bitterly lamented his share in it. 

"You don't want to marry her, then?" 
said the astonished Dick. 

" Course I don't," snarled Mr. Raggett ; " I 
cant afford it. I'm too old; besides which, 
shell turn my little place topsy-turvy. Look 
here, Dick, I done this all for you. Now, it's 

by Google 

Original from 



evident she only wants my furniture : if I give 
all the best of it to you, she'll take you 

" No, she won't," said Dick, grimly \ " I 
wouldn't have her now not if she asked me 
on her bended knee." 

"Why not?" said Raggett. 

"I don't want to marry that sort o' girl," 
said thu other, scornfully ; " it's cured me," 

" What about me, then ? " said the un- 
fortunate Raggett. 

"Well, so far as I can see, it serves you 
right for mixing in other people's business," 
said Dick, shortly. " Well, good-night, and 
good luck to you.* 

To Mr, Raggett's sore disappointment, he 
kept to his resolution, and being approached 
by Mr. Boom on his elderly friend's behalf, 
was rudely frank to him. 

*Tm a free man, again," he said, blithely, 
"and I feel better than I've felt for ever so 
long. More manly." 

" You ought to think of other people," said 
Mr. Boom, severely ; " think of poor old 

"Well, he's got a young wife out of it," 
said Dick, " I daresay he'll be happy enough. 
He wants somebody to help him spend his 

In this happy frame of mind he resumed 
his ordinary life, and when he encountered 
Ids former idol, met 
her with a hearti- 
ness and unconcern 
which the lady re- 
garded with secret 
disapproval. He 
was now so sure of 
himself that, despite 
ft suspicion of 
ulterior designs on 
the part of Miss 
Boom, he even ac- 
cepted an invitation 
to tea. 

The presence of 
Mr. Raggett made 
it a slow and solemn 
function* Nobody 
with any feelings 
could eat with any 
appetite with that 
afflicted man at the 
table, and the meal 
passed almost in 
silence. Kate 
cleared the meal 
away, and the men 
sat at the open door 

with their pipes while she washed up in the 

11 Me an' Raggett thought o 7 stepping down 
to the 'Sailor's,'" said Mr. Boom, after a 
third application of his friend's elbow, 

"I'll come with you,'* said Dick. 

"Well, we've got a little business to talk 
about," said Boom, confidentially, " but we 
sha'n't be long. If you wait here 3 Dick, we'll 
see you when we come back." 

"All right," said Tarrell. 

He watched the two old men down the 
road, and then, moving his chair back into 
the room, silently regarded the busy Kate* 

11 Make yourself useful," said she, brightly ; 
"shake the tablecloth." 

Tarrell took it to the door, and having 
shaken it, folded it, with much gravity, and 
handed it back, 

" Not so bad for a beginner," said Kate, 
taking it and putting it in a drawer. She 
took some needlework from another drawer, 
and, sitting down, began busily stitching. 

"Wedding-dress?" inquired Tarrell, with 
an assumption of great ease. 

"No, tablecloth!" said the girl, with a 
laugh, "You'll want to know a little more 
before you get married/ 7 

" Plenty o' time for me," said Tarrell ; 
*'Fm m no hurry." 

The girl put her work down and looked 

by Google 


Original from 



up at him. "That's right/' she said, staidly, 
" I suppose you were rather surprised to hear 
I was going to get married ? " 

"A little," said Tarrell ; "there's been so 
many after old Raggett, I didn't think he'd 
ever be caught." 

" Oh ! " said Kate. 

11 1 daresay hell make a very good hus- 
band," said Tarrell, patronizingly. U T think 
you'll make a nice couple. He's got a nice 

"That's why I'm going to marry him,' 1 
said Kate. " Do you thmk it's wrong to marry 
a man for that? n 

44 That's your business," said Tarrell, coldly; 
"speaking for myself, and not wishing to hurt 
your feelings, /shouldn't like to marry a girl 
like that/' 

H You mean you wouldn't like to marry 
me ? " said Kate, softly. 

She leaned forward as she spoke, until her 
breath fanned his 

"That's what 
I do mean," said 
Tarrell, with a sus- 
picion of clogged- 
ness in his voice. 

" Not even if 
I asked you 
on my bended 
knees?" said 
Kate. "Aren't 
you glad you're 

44 Yes," said 
Tarrell, manfully. 

" So am I," 
said the girl ; 
" and now that 
you are happy, 
just go down to 
the 'Jolly Sailor's,' 
and make poor 
old Raggett 
happy, too." 

"How?" asked 

"Tell him that 
I have only been having a joke with him/ 1 
said Kate, surveying him with a steady smile, 
"Tell him that I overheard him and father 
talking one night, and that I resolved to give 
them both a lesson. And tell them that I 
didn't think anybody could have been so 
stupid as they have been to believe in it." 

She leaned back in her chair, and, regard- 
ing the dumfounded Tarrell with a smile of 
wicked triumph, waited for him to speak, 
M Raggett, indeed ! !J she said, disdainfully. 

" I suppose," said Tarrell, at length, 
speaking very slowly, " my being stupid was 
no surprise to you ?" 

" Not a bit/' said the girl, cheerfully. 

"I'll ask you to tell Raggett yourself," said 
Tarrell, rising and moving towards the door. 
11 1 sha'n't see him. Good-night" 

" Good-night," said she. " Where are you 
going, then ? lJ 

There was no reply. 

"Where are you going?" she repeated* 
Then a suspicion of his purpose flashed 
across her. " You're not foolish enough to 
be going away ? " she cried, in dismay. 

a Why not?" said Tarrell, slowly. 

11 Because," said Kate, looking down — * 
" oh, because — well, it's ridiculous, I'd 



sooner have you stay here and feel what a 
stupid you've been making of yourself. I 
want to remind you of it sometimes." 

" I don't want reminding," said Tarrell, 
taking Raggett's chair ; " I know it now.' 1 

by Google 

Original from 

Trade Trophies. 

By William G. FitzGerald, 

HE average British trader is an 
unimaginative person. When 
he is enticed into showing at 
an exhibition at home or 
abroad, his stall is rarely con- 
spicuous for sta riling originality 

of arrangement On the other hand, American 

and Continental firms give this kind of thing 

much time and trouble. 

Either they build up their 

tins, boxes, or bottles 

into some imposing or 

fantastic structure, or else 

they set to work and 

make specially some strik- 
ing novelty which shall 

interest in spite of him- 
self even the most in- 
veterate advertisement- 

To emphasize my con- 
tention, I reproduce here 

a photograph of the 

Monster Candle, which 

was shown by Messrs, 

Lindahls at the recent 

Stockholm Exhibition* 

The "Liljetolmens 

Candle/ 5 as it was called, 

stood no less than 127ft. 

high. The lower part, 

which was intended to 

represent an old Swedish 

candlestick, was in reality 

an enormous structure of 

bricks and mortar, in 

which was established a 

perfectly -equipped candle 

factory, whose employes 

worked six hours a day. 

The base of the candle- 
stick covered a space 40ft. 

square. To come to 

details, the candlestick 

itself was 47ft. high, whilst 

the candle — a real stearine 

specimen — was fully 80ft. ; 

its diameter was 8 l A(L The 


itom a FkQiv- bif Altx, XindaAlt, Stockholm, 

appearance of this extraordinary trade trophy 
was at once remarkable and imposing. 
The colossal candlestick was painted with 
aluminium powder until it shone like well- 
polished silver. At ni^ht, too, an electric 
search -light of 7,000 (ordinary) candle-power 
cast its beams from the lofty summit of the 
wick over the whole of the exhibition grounds. 
Altogether, the cost of 
the monster was about 
£2, 000. 

We next come to carv- 
ings in salt ; for the 
photos, of these we are 
indebted to the courtesy 
of that powerful corpor- 
ation known as The Salt 
Union, Limited, 16, East- 
cheap, E.C* The first 
statue is an enormous 
figure of Britannia, with 
lion, trident, and shield. 
The managing director 
of The Salt Union tells 
me that this imposing 
statue was prepared from 
four large blocks of salt 
sent from the corpora- 
tion's works at Stoke 
Prior, Bromsgrove, to the 
Worcester studio of Mr, 
Forsyth, the well-known 
sculptor. The figure 
stands 8ft. 6in. in height, 
and weighs two tons. 
Although the salt used 
was of a fine grained 
variety, and the blocks 
were apparently hard and 
sound when they arrived, 
yet great difficulty was 
experienced in working 
them owing to the friable 
nature of the salt, and 
the effect upon it of 
various changes of the 
atmosphere. The appear- 
ance of the figure is 



Original from 



Frmn a Phnto. by Terry *fr Ftytr k W<nv*tU^ 

both commanding and majestic. Britannia 
is represented standing, with the right foot 
slightly advanced, and holding the tradi- 
tional trident in the right hand, and in 
the left a shield covered with the Union 
Jack. Armour is displayed upon the ample 
bust, and flowing draperies hang in graceful 
folds from she shoulders to the feet, The 
face is very finely chiselled, and the whole 
work, considering the difficulties encountered 
(the right arm broke three times), is well 
calculated to enhance the reputation of Mr, 
Forsyth^ who has already produced a great 
deal of statuary in snlt. 

Next comes a reproduction in salt of 
Bartholdis famous statue of Liberty enlighten- 
ing the world. This colossal salt figure was 
lighted at night by electricity, exactly like the 
original in the beautiful Harbour of New 
York. It was to the famous World's Fair at 

Chicago that The Salt Union sent this 
great statue. The base was composed 
of' fifteen blocks of salt, and the statue 
itself of six blocks, each weighing 
one ton. At the close of the Exhibi- 
tion this statue was sent by request 
to the Art Gallery at Chicago. The 
height, including the base, was 12ft Sin. 
The ornamental base, which was en- 
riched with mouldings, panels, and 
inscriptions, stood upon a sub-base of 
rough amber ■ coloured rock salt — an 



From a Photo, fry Ernest Leioii, CketMrt 

Original from 



imitation of the wave-worn rock upon which 
the original statue stands. 

The last artistic piece of salt sculpture to 
be shown is a pheasant, carved in high relief, 
and hanging head downwards from a branch. 
The inscription, " Worcestershire Salt," is 
also carved in this indispensable commodity. 
This piece of work was exhibited at Hohart, 
in 1894, together with a life-size representa- 
tion of a horse's head. The Salt Union 
have had many other beautiful designs pre- 
pared — such as the Eddy stone Lighthouse— 
and these exhibits have always created a very 
great amount of interest. The pheasant, by the 
way, was also the work of Mr. Forsyth, of 
Worcester. "I believe," writes Mr* Fell, the 
general manager of The Salt Union, " that the 
practice in Australia has been to hand over 
these trophies to local museums at the con- 
clusion of the exhibitions," 

It will be seen in this article that the writer 
has got together a great number of very 
curious trade trophies. Will it be believed 
that every specimen in the accompanying 
floral basket is built up piecemeal by 
hand out of so unpromising a material as 
ordinary fresh butter? The artist in this 


Fiwn a l y hoto. fcj Jerry & Fryvr^ Wvrtttttr. 


kogbS MA HE f*F SUTTER, 
/fycrtrt a photo, by Burke ilawiUv* firiyhton, 

case is Mr, Frederick Nicholson, genera] 
manager of the Sussex Dairy Company, 
Limited, of St. James's Street, Brighton, 
At one exhibition at which this basket was 
shown, several ladies and others stooped 
down to smell the flowers, quite thinking 
they were looking at a basket of real, yellow 
roses. Mr, Nicholson has been making 
flowers out of butter ever since 1888. He 
is entirely self-taught, and has never had an 
art lesson in his life, At various Dairy 
Shows, both in the Metropolis and the 
provinces, he has won a great number of 
prizes. Needless to say, the foliage in this 
basket is artificial Mr. Nicholson tells me 
he is constantly receiving orders to make 
these butter flowers for table decorations. 

The next reproduction shows some flowers 
of quite extraordinary beauty made by Mr. 
Nicholson out of lard! The dahlia, I learn, 
has sixty-two petals, each one of which has 
to be fashioned separately and then frozen, 
before the flower can be built up. It seems 
it is far more difficult to make flowers out of 
lard than oat of butter, on account of the 
former substance being much softer and more 
oily, Mr. Nicholson says it takes him three 
minutes to make a rose-bud ; four minutes to 
make a tuberose j five minutes to make an 
arum lily; six minutes to make a full ' ] own 





From n Photo. b§ Donovan, Brighton. 

rose, and no less than three-quarters of an 
hour to make a dahlia, 

One of the most remarkable achievements 
of this kind, however, is the work of Miss 
E. E. Heatli, of " Ingleside," 196, Haverstock 
Hill, N,W The beautiful harp which is here 
reproduced is composed entirely of flowers 
made of the best Irish butter* Miss Heath 

writes : li My harp gained first 
prize at the London Dairy Show 
on October 19th last. It took me 
one week to complete it, working 
from 8 a*m. till 8 p.m. each day* 
There is no salt or colouring matter 
of any kind in the butter. It re- 
quired a very cool atmosphere for 
the work. Every bit of work in 
the harp was done entirely by 
hand, the only tools used being a 
small wooden knife, a wooden 
pointer, and a roller and board." 
Miss Heath, also, is entirely self- 
taught. She always had a taste 
for modelling, and when as a 
child she could not get the right 
kind of clay, she resorted natur- 
ally to the butter on the breakfast- 
table. The frame of the harp is 

r-1 / - sat 

a Photo, by Howard d Jona, CuUurn SfrwC, E,C* 

by LiOOglC 

From, a l*Auta. by Ntitrani it Jon**, Cultnm Strr*t t EC 

made of wood, covered with green velvet, and 
the same rich-looking material also forms the 
background of the whole design. The strings 
are of gold wire. The flowers represented 
are orchids 3 stephanotis, arum lilies, roses and 




buds, narcissus, daffodils, 
fuchsias, carnations, and 
marguerites. The right-hand 
side of the harp consists of 
a column wreathed with 
lilies of the valley (the most 
difficult of all to model in 
butter), with ivy and butter- 
flies on and over the strings. 
But lard and butter are 
by no means the only sub- 
stances in which flowers aie 
worked. The preceding 
reproduction is a beautiful 
piece of work by Mr, C 
Nonvak, of 381, (loldhawk 
Road, W. This is a rustic 
pot-shaped basket, gilt all 
over and carrying a most 
artistic bouquet of roses 
and rose-buds. These are 
about 200 in number, and 
of almost every conceivable 
colour and variety. Inter- 
spersed with the flowers are 
rose-leaves and dried natural 
grasses, which quiver and 
wave with every breath of 
air, and greatly enhance the 
effect of Liu* whole. These flowers, Mr. 
Norwak tells me, are partly made of sugar 
caramel and partly of almond paste or marzi- 
pan. Each rose consists of from twenty- 

From a phutu. ttff Hnwa rd it J taut, < 



Fruu\ a I'htAo. by lttnmrd it Jrtfe*. Cttllmu Strett t KC. 

five to thirty petals, moulded separately by 
hand, and then put together. The work 
took two weeks to complete. The basket 
was shown in a recent Confectioners' Exhibi- 
tion, and, though not sent in for 
competition, it was nevertheless 
awarded a gold medal 

In the next picture is seen a 
very remarkable piece of sugar 
work. This is a representation 
in sugar of Portsmouth Town 
Hall, made by Mr. W, J. B. 
Hopkins, of 28, Bailey Road, 
Southsea. Mr, Hopkins has so 
produced his model that it re- 
sembles the original building as 
closely as possible, considering 
the small scale. This wonderful 
sugar structure is 24in. wide and 
283 n. deep, the height to the 
top of the spire being 28111. It 
contains the exact number of 
windows (duly provided with 
glass) ; and there are also many 
doors and columns, as well as 
a fine flight of steps. Mr. 
Hopkins now has the model 
at home ; and he tells me it 
is fitted with electric light. 
"This piece of work was 

\-n lull I dr IPiJ I Tl 




done in my spare time at home after the 
day f s work was done." 

A particularly beautiful specimen of sculp- 
ture in sweetstuff is next seen. The artist 
— he fully deserves that name — is Mr, 
Edward Sehur, of 337, Commercial Road, E« 
Here is the technical description ; The work 
is a free-modelling in marzipan, which is a 
composition of powdered almonds and sugar. 
The subject is a well-known painting called 
"The Angel of the Little Ones." The angel 
is standing with wings not yet at rest, bend- 
ing tenderly over a .sleeping infant who lies 
in an eighteenth century carvedoak cradle* 
Beside the cradle stands a four-legged stool 
of the same period, the top being wrought to 
resemble upholstered leather On the stool 
lies an open book, placed upside down, and 
evidently left there by mamma, The drapery 
of the cradle, with its wrinkled and ruffled 
coverings, is wonderfully reproduced ; in fact, 
this is said to be the most effective specimen 
of marzipan work ever produced. 

Our next reproduction depicts an enormous 
castellated structure built entirely of soap ! 

being comparatively common, Messrs, Cook 
and Co, struck out on highly original lines. 
The offices of the firm's representatives were 
established inside this soap castle, Mr, 
Thomas A. Cook furnishes the following : 
"The designs and drawings for the castle 
were first of all prepared by Messrs, Jerrard 
and Sons, of Lewisham, These were very 
elaborate, showing the position of each block 
of soap, and the strengthening of the arch- 
ways, as well as the arrangements of the 
pediments on the sloping floor, and even 
the marking of the special soap-blocks to 
make them represent * Kentish rag/ 

"By some mysterious accident, however, 
these first plans were lost on the top of an 
omnibus, but by dint of getting duplicates 
prepared at the last moment, and working 
night and day, the work was accomplished in 
time for the opening of the exhibition. The 
mottled soap was marked to represent the 
stone named above, whilst the * Primrose ' 
variety was cut to represent free-stone capitals, 
pediments, arches, and battlements. The 
blocks of soap were fastened together and 


Frnm a Photo, bv ttatrant A Jon «*, iJultnm Street* M. G. 

No less than twenty tons of the material was 
used- This most interesting trade trophy was 
shown at the last Grocery Exhibition at the 
Agricultural Hall by the well-known firm of 
Messrs, Edward Cook and Co,, of Bow. I 
am indebted for the use of this photo., as 
well as many others, to Messrs. Howard and 
Jones, of Cullum Street, E.C., who have 
practically a monopoly in the photograph- 
ing of trade trophies and exhibits of 
all kinds. Pyramids and obelisks of soap 

Digitized by Li OOg I C 

kept in position by special clips made m our 
own engineering department. Naturally, 
the castle attracted a great deal of attention. 
Few could realize that it was made entirely 
of soap. Our representatives had some 
difficulty in preventing the castle from 
being defaced or damaged by the inquisitive 
fingers of passers-by. Many people smelt 
the castle; others dug their nails into it, 
and one melancholy -looking man carved off 
a piece of the battlement with his pocket- 


2I 4 


From a Ftata 6ir Mappin Brother*. Chenpridt, 

knife, and carefully carried it away with him, 
wrapped in paper," 

Next is shown a very beautiful scent-bottle 
made out of a targe ball of Ariston soap by 
the well-known firm of Messrs. John Knight 
and Sons, of Silvertown, and presented to 
H,R,H, Princess Maud of Wales, as a 
memento of the opening of the East London 
Exhibition at the People's Palace in June, 

Ariston soap, it appears, is a high-class 
transparent variet)', of a very hard kind. It 
seems the Princess admired the huge ball of 
soap, and Messrs. Knight thereupon resolved 
to turn it into a scent-bottle and present it to 
Her Royal Highness, A hole was made in 
the ball, and a cut-glass bottle sunk into it. 
The big ball of soap is elegantly mounted in 
silver filigree work. 

An even more remarkable trade trophy 
(also belonging to Messrs, John Knight and 
Sons) is next reproduced. This is a really 
beautiful and artistic figure of a Roman 
warrior made entirely of stearinc, which, one 
learns, is the foundation of the best candles. 
The method of producing statuary of this 
kind is as follows : In the first place a really 
costly original is bought from some artist, 
and from this are prepared a number of plaster 
moulds, Into these is run the liquid stearine, 
which is afterwards left to cool. In due time 
the mould is broken away, leaving an impos- 
ing statue, which, however, is not exactly of 
an enduring nature. Roughnesses are subse- 
quently toned down, and the figure " tooled 
up" generally, by one of Messrs. Knight's 
able staff. I inquired as to the ultimate fate 
of these works of art, whereupon I learnt that, 


for example, the 
hero shown in our 
photograph will 
eventually be re- 
duced to night- 
lights, or even 
imitation butter I 
Hebe, Diana, and 
a few other myth- 
ological person- 
ages have already 
met with a similar 

The next trade 
trophy to lie shown 
is a bust of our 
beloved Sovereign 
made out of seal- 
ing-wax by Messrs, 
Hyde and Co., 
of 25, St, Bride 

From a Fhuto. by Gtutge ActmcJ, Ltd. 



2T S 

Street s E.C This in- 
teresting piece of "sculp- 
ture" was exhibited at 
the Great Exhibition of 
1851, and was inspected 
with great interest by 
the Prince Consort him- 
self. The statue has not 
yet been broken up, and 
although its condition is 
not what it was, by 
reason of cracks, etc., 
the likeness of the 
Queen as a girl still 
remains a remarkably 
good one. 

The last trade trophy 
to be reproduced is the 
Canadian Mammoth 
Cheese, which was exhi- 
bited in the Chicago 
Exhibition, and was 
bought by that well- 
known provision mer- 
chant, Mr, Jubal Webb, of Kensington* 
The cheese weighs 22,ooolb., or close upon 
itn tons. In our photograph it is seen in a 
specially constructed steel case, slung upon 
iron girders, so that the enormous weight 
may rest directly over the iron wheels of the 
specially constructed teak trolly. This trolly t 
by the way, is drawn by eight powerful 
horses belonging to the Midland Railway* 
A special permit had to be procured from 
Scotland Yard to bring this extraordinary load 
through the Ixuidon streets. The authorities 


Frtrtji a Photo, by A. 

also mapped out a special 
route with the view of 
obviating any possibility 
of the trolly and its 
burden going through 
into the sewers ! In one 
way this mammoth 
cheese may be said to 
owe its inception to the 
Canadian Government, 
working in conjunction 
with the D o ni i n i o n 
farmers. The milk was 
brought to the Dominion 
experimental farm in 
Ontario, and there 
worked up into cheese 
t»v specially made ma- 
chinery, which after- 
wards exercised upon it 
a pressure of zoo tons. 
So good was the cheese, 
that when, at the close of 
the Exhibition, a "shaft" 
was sunk into the giant by means of a "trier," 
the quality was found to be most excellent 
The mammoth cheese contained 207,2001b. of 
milk, equal to one day's production of 10,000 
cows, and it took i/>66 dairy-maids to milk 
these cows. The rutting of the cheese was 
quite a great function. Among the notable 
people present at Mr. Jubal Webb's establish- 
ment on that occasion was Sir Charles Tupper, 
the Canadian Agent-General. "The biggest 
cheese the world has ever seen " was 6ft. 
high, and 28ft in circumference. 

1&51— IN sKALIMi-U AK- 

Jiinnie, Ea*t Putney, 


Fwm a PhQto. h ¥ H. *£ it 8tti*A< st Y KwinQtan High Street, & W 

by Google 

Original from 

The Convict* $ Revenge. 

By Victor L. Whitechurch. 

GH ! " said my companion to 
me, with a shiver and a little 
clutch at my arm. u That's 
a thing I hate ! " 

We were standing by a 
level-crossing as he spoke. 
We had almost started to cross the rails, 
when a mm hie arid a whistle and the bright 
glare of the head ■ lights heralded the 
close approach of a train. So we stood back 
for a moment or two to let the iron steed 

mine. And, perhaps, if you'd had an ex- 
perience that happened to me some ten 
years ago, you'd flinch a bit when an express 
train rattled past you/ 7 

l( Oh, there's a foundation for it, is there ? " 
" There is, sir, and if you care to step 
inside my little place and rest for half an 
hour, III tell you the yarn, such as it is." 

I expressed myself only too delighted to 
pick up the proffered information. I must 
explain before I go further that until the 


and his load pass. The lights from the 
carriages flashed out upon us, then there was 
a swirl of wind as darkness came on once 
more, and the red tail-light vanished round 
the curve beyond. 

* Why," I remarked, with a laugh, as we 
went on again, " surely an old soldier and ex- 
prison warder like yourself isn't afraid of a 
passing train ? " 

"Ah, sir, every man has his weakness, and 
I'm not ashamed to confess that I've got 

by Google 

evening in question my companion had been 
unknown to me, I had been staying for a 
few days at the little cathedral city of Dull- 
minster, and had been on a day's fishing 
excursion in the neighbourhood with no 
com pan ion save my pipe. It was while 
pensively watching my float in the quiet 
little stream that a fine-looking old fellow 
appeared, bent on the same sport as myself, 
and took up his position close by. As 
bites were few and far between, we entered 
Original from 




into conversation, and when dusk set in, by 
mutual consent, we packed our traps and set 
off together over the pleasant fields that lay 
between us and I)ullminster. He told me 
something of his past history as we trudged 
along, from which I gathered that he had 
begun life in the Army, and afterwards he 
had been a warder in the well-known convict 
prison of Dart port, from which post he had 
retired into private life some few years since, 
and had come to eke out a restful existence 
on savings and pension in Dullminster, the 
place of his birth. 

A few hundred yards beyond the level 
crossing we stopped at the door of a little 
house in one of the streets in the outskirts 
of the town. 

4 *Come in, sir,'' said the old felbw. 
11 I'm all by my- 
self — yes, an old 
bachelor, sir. 
And if you'll 
condescend to 
have a cup of 
tea, while I spin 
you the yarn, 
you're welcome 
to it" 

It was a chilly 
autumn evening, 
and the bright 
fire and singing 
kettle in the 
little sitting- 
room looked 
very inviting, so 
1 gladly accepted 
mine host's invi- 

"And now, 
sir," said he, 
when we were 
comfortably set- 
tled, " I'll tell 
you why I don't 
like to be near 
an express train 
at night, 

"Of course, 
as you c a n 
imagine, we 
used to have 

some queer customers at Dartport Her 
Majesty's private hotels take all kinds of 
folk, and we are not particular as to character. 
One of the worst gaol-birds that I ever 
remember was a certain convict whom I will 
call by his old number— 36* He was in for 
a long sentence— in fact, as far as 1 know, 

L 1,1. KH.1 \if hi-,: UKK ML MMMIHO IV [T H VOL 

Vol. xv.- 28. 

by Google 

he's doing time yet ; though if there'd been 
a little more evidence forthcoming at his 
trial, his term of imprisonment would have 
been a short one, ending in the prison -yard 
on the scaffold ; but as it was, though his 
list of crimes was a pretty black one, murder 
couldn't quite be proved, though there were 
few that doubted he hadn't stuck at that 

" From the moment I set eyes on him at 
Dartport I knew there'd be trouble with 
No. 36. It wasn't only the size and strength 
of the man 3 but a certain nasty look about 
his eyes that told me this. Nor was I mis- 
taken, for he proved to be one of the most 
unmanageable brutes we ever had. He soon 
took a particularly strong dislike to me, for, as 
ill luck would have it, I was the first to have 
to report him for misconduct, and it was 

through me that 
he had his first 
taste of the cat 
When I went 
into his cell that 
night, he broke 
the strict rule of 
silence, and 
hissed out : — 

(t ' You devil 
of a turnkey, I'll 
kill you before 
I've finished 
with you/ 

" I t w a s a 
threat I had 
heard more than 
once before, and 
it didn't affect 
me very much 
at the time, 
though I had 
good reason to 
remember it 

" Two years 
passed, and No. 
36 showed no 
signs of improv- 
ing* He had a 
marvellous phy- 
sique, and the 
prison diet 
seemed in no 
way to diminish his strength. He had to be 
most carefully watched in the quarries, and 
in fact always, for he had a nasty knack of 
being dangerous in more ways than one. At 
length, towards the end of the summer of the 
year of which I am speaking, he suddenly 
turned over a new leaf, and became quiet and 

Original from 



tractable. I felt less sure of him than ever, 
nevertheless, for I had seen something of this 
phase of character before, and I knew it 
generally meant mischief. Nor was I mis- 
taken, for one afternoon, when a fog - had 
come on rather unexpectedly, the sharp crack 
of a rifle betokened the escape of No. 36. 
Taking advantage of the mist, he had 
suddenly struck the nearest warder to the 
ground, hurled a big bit of stone with deadly 
aim at one sentry, completely bowling him 
over, taking the chance of a bullet from 
another — and was off ! 

" A search party was, of course, organized 
at once, but somehow or other he managed 
to show a clean pair of heels and escape 
over the moors. As darkness set in, a poor 
old man was found dazed and half naked, 
about a couple miles from the prison, and, 
after being revived, he told how No. 36 had 
met him and insisted upon having all his 
upper garments, so that the runaway had an 
extra good chance of getting clear. 

" It was between nine and ten o'clock at 
night that I, in company with several other 
members of a search party, halted for a little 
consultation just by the embankment of the 
railway, the main * West Southern/ line to 
London, that runs through the desolate bit of 
country some five or six miles north of Dart- 
port Prison. 

" ' I wonder whether it's any use having a 
look at Westmoor Station/ said our chief. 

" Westmoor Station was about two miles 
up the line from where we were standing, 

" ' Aye/ I replied, ' it's just possible that 
he might be lying around there, looking out 
for a train ; though it's my belief that he's 
making northward — at any rate, it's more 

"'Well, Davis/ said the chief, after a 
moment or two's thought, 'suppose you go 
to West wood. It may be worth trying. I 
think we ought to go on to Hartwell, or that 
direction. What do you say ?' 

" ' I'm willing to do as you suggest/ I 
answered. { It's just as well to see the 
station-master, I think/ 

" ' All right. You slip away, then, Davis. 
You'd better keep along the line — it's the 
nearest way.' 

" So I started off along the line. It was 
a very dark night, though the fog had lifted, 
and it was some moments before I got used 
to the track. After a bit, however, I made 
pretty fair progress, walking between the 
down pair rails on the right-hand side, so 
that I could see the head-lights of any train 
coming towards me. I hadn't gone far 

by Google 

before I did. a very. foolish thing. I slung 
my rifle over my shoulders, so as to leave my 
hands free. 

" I had gone about. half a mile or more up 
the line when a great longing for a pipe came 
over me. I hadn't had a pipe all day, and 
as you're a smoker, sir, you know pretty well 
how I was feeling. As I walked along I took 
out my pouch, filled my pipe, and then felt 
in my pocket for a match.- After nearly 
turning it inside out I found one solitary wax 
vesta. Now, • there was a bit of a wind 
blowing over the moor, and fearful lest I 
should waste my precious match, I refrained 
from striking it until I could get behind 
some shelter. The desired object presently 
appeared, looming through the darkness, in 
the shape of a little -platelayer's hut on the 
same side of the line as I was walking, the 
door facing towards the rails. Getting into 
the shelter of the doorway, I struck the 
match, and was just about to light my pipe, 
when, as I leaned against the door, to my 
astonishment it opened inwards with my 
weight, almost precipitating me to the ground, 
and before I could recover myself the light 
of the vesta revealed to me the hideous face 
of No. 36, who was hiding within. 

" With a snarl he was upon me, and had 
clutched me by the throat with his strong, 
bony hands. It was all done so suddenly 
that I had scarcely time to think of what 
was happening, and had hardly realized the 
situation, when I found myself sprawling on 
my back with the ugly brute on the top of 
me. Of course, I made a mighty effort to 
defend myself, but I was quite powerless in 
his strong grip. 

" € Ah/ he growled, with a curse, as he 
held me pinned to the ground, 'it's you, is 
it ? Well, I've got a few old accounts to 
settle with you, and I don't think there could 
be a better opportunity.' 

" ' You brute ! ' I ejaculated, trying to twist 
myself out of his grasp. 

" ' Ah — would you ? Not so fast, Warder 
Davis. The tables are turned now, and you're 
the prisoner/ 

" At this moment something flashing bright 
in the dim star-light fell out of my pocket 
and clanged on the gravel ballast of the 
railway track. 

4C ' Good/ said No. 36, making a snatch at 
it ; ' these bracelets were meant for me, I 
suppose. Perhaps they'd prove as good a 
fit on your wrists. At any rate, we'll try. 
And as we haven't a cell handy to fix you in, 
we'll fasten you down to something secure — 
do you hear ? ' 

Original from 




"And putting forth all his strength, in 
spite of my desperate struggles, he half 
dragged, half rolled me on to the down track 
close beside us. Then, kneeling on my 
chest, he forced my right hand beneath the 
outer rail between the sleepers, and my left 
arm over the rail, then there was a sharp 
click, as with a savage chuckle he snapped 
the handcuffs over both my wrists, and I 
realized my terrible position. / was hand- 
€uffed down to the rail I 

gt He jumped up in triumph, felt in my 
pocket, drew out the key of the handcuffs, 
mid hurled it away. 

11 * How now, you white-livered skunk ? J 
he snarled, *I could kill you outright with a 
knock on the head if I chose, But Fm not 
going to commit murder, oh, no ! I'll leave 
that to the down express. Do you under- 
stand? If it runs at the same time as it 
used to, it ought to come by here about 
eleven o'clock, and I guess there'll be a little 
obstruction in its way to-night. Ah ! I've 
pot to fix you a bit tighter, my friend, just to 
make sure* you know/ 

" And he went into the hut, reappearing 
in a few moments with a piece of rope, 
which he had, I suppose, previously noticed 

'* * You'd feel a little bit more comfortable 
if I tie your feet down too, eh ? ' he sneered ; 
and, to my horror, he put a loop of rope 

by Google 

round my right leg, drew it underneath the 
inner rail, and then made the end fast to my 
left ankle, above the raiL I was thus fixed 
right across the track, and escape from a 
hideous death seemed impossible. But the 
villain had not finished yet, 

" ( There's just a chance that you might 
call out/ he said, ' so I'll tie your mouth 
up. You can say your prayers just as well 
with it shut as open, and the sooner you 
say them the better, for you never needed to 

"He stuffed part of my handkerchief into 
my mouth and tied it round with another bit 
of rope. Then he proceeded to rifle my 

li4 (;ot any loose rash about you? Thai's 
right. Ill take care of it, for it won't do you 
any good now, I reckon, and you'll have the 
dying satisfaction of having helped me to get 
off to London. And now, you skunk of a 
warder, good- night ! I told you Fd be the 
death of you one day\ but, by Heaven, I never 
hoped for such a payin^-off of old scores as 
this. Remember, you'll see the headlights 
of the engine coming towards you — -you'll hear 
the roar of the train that's going to squash 
you. It's a good revenge, isn't it? Vd stay 
here and see the end of it if I could, only I've 
no time to spare, so now good-night, Warder 
Davis, curse you ! ' 

"And with a brutal kick at my defenceless 

Original from 



body he started off in the direction of West- 
moor. I could see his bulky form for a 
moment or two in the dim light, and could 
hear for several minutes the tread of his feet 
crunching the gravel on the permanent way, 
I had no doubt In my mind that he had been 
making for Westmoor previously, and had 
used the old platelayer's hut as a hiding-place 
until it was about time to take a chance of 
getting on one of the up trains. 

" My situation was a truly awful one. He 
was quite right about the down express : it 
was timed to run through Westmoor just 
about eleven o'clock. It was past ten now> so 
that there was not an hour between me and 
a hideous death. I lay still for some minutes 
and tried to compose my mind to think a 
little. Was there any tiling I could do? 
Yes ! With an effort I might manage to 
remove the gag, I pushed my head as far 
as it would go over the metals, and to my 
joy was able to undo the knots with my 
chained hands and to get the handkerchief 
out of my mouth. This was a relief, cer- 
tainly, but only a very small one, for it 
soon dawned upon me that if I yelled 
my loudest there would be no one within 
hearing on the lonely moor through which 
the track ran* To get my hands free was 
impossible, but there might be a chance for 
my feet. 1 began to kick them about, and 

discovered that the wretch had simply passed 
the rope between my ankles once round the 
rail, so that by alternately kicking and pulling 
with each foot I could draw it backward 
and forward against the rail With the 
energy of despair I began to work with all my 
might to fray the rope against the rail, and so 
set my feet free. 

" I must have kicked away for over half 
an hour — kicked and pulled till I was stiff 
and in agony, and still the rope held, but 
I could feel it rubbing away and getting 
thinner, and T tried to work it so that the 
friction took place where the rail rested in 
the * chair ' on the sleeper, so as to have a 
sharp corner to cuL Fiercely I struggled 
to get free, but the rope was a strong 
one t and it seemed as if it would hold for 

11 A whistle ! Hardly discernible in the 
distance, but still I knew what it meant. 
The down express was running through 
Westmoor Station. A fresh struggle — and 
stiil the rope held. Then came an ominous 
rumble in the distance, and there* half a mile 
away up the straight bit of track, I could see 
the glimmer of the engine's head-light A 
desperate pult ! I hung on to the outer rails 
with both hands> and pulled with arms and 
legs like a man on the rack of old— every 
muscle of the body was strained with the 





Original from 



fearful tension. Snap ! . The rope broke and 
my feet were free. 

" There was not a moment to lose ; the 
train was little over a quarter of a mile away, 
and in twenty seconds it would be on me. 
But a desperate man can do a lot in that time. 
With a quick movement I rolled over to the 
outside of the track, so that my left arm 
came under the rail. Then I threw myself 
at full length parallel to the track, feet 
towards the approaching train, and as far 
from the rail as possible. At the same 
moment I drew down my hands on either 
side of the rail so that the short chain 
between the steel wristlets was on the top 
of the rail, the centre being on the inner 
top edge of the rail where the wheels would 

" With a roar the train was on me. I 
expected to have one of my hands cut off, 
and there came a sharp thrill of pain to both 
wrists as the leading wheel of the engine 
struck the chain, while the thought flashed 
across me that I might not be far enough from 
the rail to escape being struck in my body. 

" The passing of that awful train seemed 
to be an hour. Wheel after wheel ran 
close to my face with a hideous clatter — 
until the momentary red glare of the tail- 
light and a big rush of air told me that 
the danger had passed. For about five 
minutes I lay perfectly still, and not till then 
did I discover that my hands were falling 
further apart. 

" Scarcely daring to hope, I drew them 
slowly towards me. Yes ! I was free ! The 
heavy train had snapped the swiveMink that 
joined the handcuffs, and with the exception 
of a severe bruising in my wrists, I was per- 
fectly uninjured. 

"Well, to make a long story short, sir, I 
toddled to my feet with the most profound 
feeling of gratitude to Providence that I had 
ever experienced. And then, weak and 
nerve-shattered as I was, there came upon me 
the intense desire to recapture the brute who 
had condemned me to such an awful death. 
My rifle was still with me, and uninjured ; so, 
as well as I could, I set forth in the direction 
of Westmoor, starting in fright after I had 
gone a short distance at the noise of a heavy 
goods train, that rumbled past me on the 
up track. 

" When I got to the station, the platform 
and offices were closed, but this same 
goods train was being shunted in the yard, 
preparatory to making a fresh start on its 
journey towards London. Two or three 
trucks, covered with tarpaulins, were de- 
tached, and I fancied I caught a glimpse 
of a dark -figure crouching beside one of 

u I stopped and watched, smiling to 
myself as I saw No. 36 climb into the 
truck, and disappear beneath the tarpaulin. 
Then I went quietly to the brakesman and 
explained matters. He, the driver of the 
engine, a couple of shunters, and myself 
surrounded the truck, and in a few minutes 
No. 36 found himself brought to bay, with 
the man whom he had thought dead pre- 
senting his rifle within a foot of him. He 
saw the game was over and gave in, and 
that's the end of the yarn. 

" Yes, of course, he was pretty severely 
punished, but that didn't compensate me for 
my terrible experience ; and now perhaps you 
don't wonder why I should give a bit of a 
shudder when an express train passes me in 
the dark ! " 

by Google 

Original from 

Glimpses of N attire. 

By Grant Allen. 


HE papery nests of wasps, as 
I mentioned in the last of 
these essays, are purely tem- 
porary empires : the vespine 
race has " no abiding city 
here"; each summer sees 
the populous homes built afresh from the 
ground ; each winter sees them unpeopled 
and demolished. But with ants, which are 
builders for time, things are quite otherwise. 
The communities of those clever and in- 
telligent little creatures are tolerably per- 
manent ; they go on from year to year, and 
generation to generation, often for very long 
periods together. Lest I weary you un- 
necessarily by a long preamble however, I 
shall present you with views of one such nest 
at once, outside and inside^ in Nos, i and 2, 
in order that you may see without delay the 
curious method of their detailed construction, 
The city whose external lineaments are 
shown you in the photograph reproduced in 
No. 1 is actually situated on St. George's 


by Google 

Hill, near Wey bridge, just ten feet away from 
the large Scotch fir whose trunk appears on 
the right of the illustration. It is only one 
among many various types of ants' nests, 
built by different species. From outside, all 
you can see of it is a confused mass of dry 
pine-needles, arranged in a barrow-shaped hill 
or mound, some eight feet across at the base, 
and two feet high. But that is in reality only 
the outwork or top story of the communal 
habitation. Beneath it lies a second layer, six 
inches thick, composed entirely of roots of 
heather and rootlets of fir trees, all carefully 
stripped clean of bark, and making a dry foun- 
dation for the warm hillock of pine-needles. 
Below this woody layer, again, the ground is 
tunnelled to an unknown depth by long sub- 
terranean galleries, driven right through a 
stratum of solid sandstone. These inner 
galleries extend* not only beneath the hillock, 
but also all round it ; for wherever you step, 
the soil treads sort, and gives beneath your foot 
to a depth of six or eight inches* This illus- 
trative example is a city built 
by our common English Wood 
Ant ; I have had another just 
like it— an insect London — 
under observation for three cr 
four years in a copse on a spur 
of Hind Head, not far from my 

In No. 2 Mr. Enock has 
represented for us, with his 
usual skill, a very small section 
of such a city, "all a-growing 
and a-blowing " — all engaged 
in the active exercise of its 
everyday functions. How it 
came into being, and how it is 
ruled and peopled, I will tell 
you a little later on ; for the 
present I want first to familiarize 
you with the general course of 
its domestic economy in prac- 
tical action. We have here an 
interior view, with one wall re- 
moved, of a tunnel or gallery, 
which runs through the soft 
upper portion of the nest, com- 
posed of pine needles ; together 
with a small piece of the outer 
surface. An ant, which has 
been out foraging for food, 
approaches one of the mouths 
of the nest Beneath are three 

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successive floors or stages of the tunnel, with 
excavated chambers, each appropriated to its 
own particular pijqjose. In the upper floor 
of all, we see two groups of minute eggs 
awaiting their hatching. These are the real 
eggs, not the much larger things sold as 
"ants 1 eggs* for bird food in London, which 
are really the pupae. Four of the eggs have 
just arrived at hatching point ; therefore, one 
of the careful nurses 
who look after them 
is seen just in the 
act of bundling them 
over on to stage two, 
which is the floor 
here reserved for 
the nursery of the 
hatehed-out grubs or 
larvae. In this second 
stage you see a 
chamber with a 
group of such grubs, 
all hungry and 
greedy, watting for 
their nurses to bring 
them food from out- 
side the household. 
Observe the obvious 
expectancy of their 
attitude, with heads 
held up, like that of 
small birds clamour- 
ing eagerly for food 
when their mother 
approaches them cocoons, with womkers 

with a worm or a 

caterpillar. After feeding for some time 
in this legless, grubbish condition, the larva 
turns into a pupa, and incloses itsdf in a 
cocoon ; one larva has just completed this 
happy transformation, and a watchful nurse 
ant is therefore at this moment engaged in 
carrying it tenderly a stage lower down to the 
floor reserved for the chrysalis condition. 
On the third floor, below, you see a group 
of pupae, lying by in the dark, and awaiting 
their development. The wall of one cocoon 
has here been removed ; and within, you 
may catch a glimpse of the imprisoned grub, 
now recently transformed into the adult ant 
pattern. Of course, the nest contains many 
hundreds of such tunnelled galleries, all 
teeming with life, and all made up of several 
distinct chambers. 

Now, how does such a nest begin to be? 
Well, it starts from a queen, or perfect female, 
who sets out with a few others to form a 
colony. This colony soon grows ; but it is 
rather a republic than an Amazon kingdom, 

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like the hive of bees or the nest of wasps : 
it is composed of several perfect females 
(instead of one queen), numerous imperfect 
females or workers, and a few males, who, as is 
usual among social insects, are very unimport- 
ant and unconsidered creatures. The males 
and females are winged when they first emerge 
from their cocoons ; and they use their wings 
for their marriage flight, which is a recognised 

institution among all 
insect socialists, But 
as soon as the per- 
fect females have 
been safely wedded, 
their wings drop off; 
or, in cases where 
they do not fall of 
themselves, the 
insects themselves 
wriggle and pull 
them off with their 
legs in the most 
comic fashion. I 
have sometimes seen 
a dinner - table in 
Jamaica covered by 
a sudden irruption of 
female winged ants 
of tropical specie^ 
which insisted on 
immolating them- 
selves in the soup 
and the wine (to the 
advantage of neither 
party), while others 
blackened the table- 
cloth, and devoted themselves to getting rid 
of their wings with unpleasant gyrations, As 
for the males, they are of no further use to 
the community, so they die ^t once. But the 
mass of the larvae develop into imperfect 
females or workers, which are always wingless 
from the very first ; and it is these that form 
the ordinary ants of the everyday observer. 
In many kinds there are also two types of 
neuters ; the one type, workers proper, have 
rather large heads and moderate jaws- -they 
are the foragers and builders of the com- 
munity; the other type, soldiers, have still 
bigger heads and very powerful jaws — it is 
their task to fight in defence of their native 
city. Other differences of less importance 
will come out in the course of our subse- 
quent explanation, 

The winged ants have large and many- 
faceted compound eyes, to aid them in their 
flight abroad : and they have also single 
eyelets or ocelli^ as in the case of the wasp, 
which seem to be useful to them in finding 

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It **»»*' j r 

the wny over large areas, as the compound 
eyes are probably designed for nearer and 
minuter vision. Hut the workers have always 
the true eyes small, and often rudimentary ; 
while the eyelets or ocelli are mostly wanting. 
To put it plainly; they are almost blind. 
The reason for this peculiarity is that walking 
ants do not much need sight ; they seem to 
feel and smell their way about ; vision with 
them ranks far second to odour as a means of 
information. There can be very little doubt, 
too, that their principal organ of sense resides 
in the antennae, or feelers, which are probably 
used in part for smelling. Whatever may be 
the perceptive function which these curious 
appendages subserve, however, nobody who 
has watched ants closely ever doubts that 
they are also used as a means of intercom- 
munication, almost analogous to human 
language. Whenever two ants of the same 
nest meet, they stop and parley with one 
another by waving and crossing their antennae ; 
so obvious is it that the information thus 
conveyed makes one 
ant follow another 
towards a source of 
food, or other object 
of interest, which the 
first ant has dis- 
covered, that the pro- 
cess is universally 
described by ant- 
observers as " talk- 

In No. 3 we get 
an illustration of two 
workers belonging to 
an English species 
known as the Warrior Ant, from its predatory 
habits, engaged in just such a profound 
confab together. They are meditating war, 
and discussing a plan of campaign with one 
another; for the Warrior Ant is a slave- 
making species. It is a larye red kind, and 
it makes raids against nests of the small 
yellow Turf Ant, a mild and docile race, 
large numbers of which it carries off to act 
as servants. But it does not steal fully-grown 
Turf Ants ; their habits are formed, and they 
would be useless for such a purpose. What 
the Warrior Ant wants is raw material which 
can be turned into thoroughly well trained 
servants. So it merely kills the adult ants which 
strive to oppose its aggression, and contents 
itself with trundling home to its own nest 
the larvae and pupae of the Turf Ants which 
it has put to flight and vanquished. In 
process of time, these grubs and cocoons 
produce full-grown yellow workers, which, 

having never known freedom, can be taught 
by the Warrior Ants to act as nurses and 
housemaids, exactly as if they were living in 
their own proper city, f once saw in a 
garden in Algiers a great pitched battle going 
on between slave-makers and the family of 
the future slaves, in which the ground was 
strewn with the corpses of the vanquished; 
not till the nest of the smaller ants was 
almost exterminated did they retire from the 
unequal contest, and allow the proud invader 
to carry off their brothers and sisters in their 
cocoons, asleep and unconscious. 

The two ants figured in No, 3 are deliberate 
ing on the chances of such a cocoon-lifting 
expedition. The one to the right has been 
hunting for honey up the stems of vetches, 
and has fallen in by the way with a small nest 
of Turf Ants. Returning post-haste to her 
own home, big with this exciting intelligence, 
she encounters a comrade, to whom she 
communicates in antennae- language her 
belief that the Turf Ants she has discovered 

are not very numer- 
ous, and her convic- 




3 . —A 



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tion that they would 
fall an easy prey to a 
well -organized party 
of Warrior raiders. 
The two friends cross 
their antenna? as they 
talk, wave them mys- 
teriously about, and 
evidently succeed in 
conveying their re- 
spective views on the 
situation to one 
another. After a short 
delay, both return, all agog, to the nest to- 
gether, and rouse the guard with* Intelligence 
of plenty of pupse ready to be plundered. At 
once the city hums alive with bustle and pre- 
paration. Workers run to and fro and com- 
municate orders from head-quarters to one 
another. H There's a big slave-hunt on ; sister- 
fighter so-and-so has just brought news of a 
city of Turfites, quite near, and unprotected. 
The doors are open, and she noticed as she 
passed that ihe sentries looked most lax and 
indifferent. The whole place has apparently 
been demoralized by a recent marriage flight. 
Everybody in our nest is going to the wan 
Come along and help us ! " 

Forthwith, they sally out, and make for the 
city of the despised yellow Turfites, They fall 
upon it, unexpectedly, and kill the outei 
sentries. Then the battle begins in earnest. 
Half the Turfites rush out in battle 
array, and, banding themselves together, to 

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make up for their individual small size, 
fall fiercely upon this or that isolated 
Warrior. Occasionally, by dint of mere 
numbers, they beat off the invader with 
heavy loss ; but much more often, the large 
and strong-jawed Warriors win the day, and 
destroy to a worker the opposing forces. 
They crush their adversaries' heads with 
their vice like mandibles. Meanwhile, within 
the nest, the other half of the workers— the 
division told off as special nurses — are 
otherwise employed in defending and pro- 
tecting the rising generation. At the first 
alarm, at the first watchword passed with 
waving antennae through the nest, " A 
Warrior host is attacking us ! M they hurry to 
the chambers where the cocoons are stored, 
and bear them off in their mouths into the 
recesses of the nest, the lowest and most in- 
accessible of all the chambers. When at 
last the day is lost, the Warriors break in and 
steal all the pupa; they can lay their jaws 
upon ; but many survive in the long, dark 
tunnels, with a few devoted workers still left 
to tend and teach them. 

No. 4 shows us the last final stage in such 
a slave- hunt. The big red Warriors have 
won ; the little yellow Turfites have been 
repulsed and defeated with great slaughter. 
The victors are at present engaged in carrying 
captured cocoons to their own nests j there, 
the pupre will hatch out shortly into willing 
slaves, and, never having known any other 
condition, will tike it for granted that the 
natural post for small yellow ants is to clean 
and forage and catch food for big red ones, 

slaves, in the presence of food, did not even 
know how to feed herself; she was positively 
starving to death in the midst of plenty. Then 
Sir John provided her with a single slave; 
instantly, the industrious little creature set to 
work to clean and arrange her mistress and 
to offer her food. This is a striking illustra- 
tion of the moral truth that slavery is at least 
as demoralizing for the master as for his 

No. 5 introduces us to a passing phase in 
a combat of ants— a life-and-death conflict 



Our own Warrior Ants are slave-holdeis 
which still retain some power of working and 
acting for themselves \ but there are other 
species in which the "peculiar institution' 7 
has produced its usual degrading result by 
rendering the slaveowner incapable and 
degenerate, a mere fighting do-nothing. 
Among the Amazon ants, which are very 
confirmed slave-makers, Sir John Lubbock 
found that a great lady, left alone without 

Vol *v.-28. 

Digitized by L^OOgle 


between two single antagonists. Ants, indeed, 
are desperate fighters ; the workers and per- 
feet females have sometimes stings, like the 
bees and wasps ; but in most specks they 
fight by biting with their jaws, which are 
moulded into strong and vice-like nippers or 
pincers. Moreover, they have a gland which 
secretes the same poisonous 
material as that contained in 
the venom- bag of the sting 
among wasps and bees ; and 
after the ant has made a hole 
with her jaw in her enemy's 
armour, she injects into it a 
little of this painful, irritating 
arid, which kills small insects. 
During a battle, ants are all 
most reckless of their own lives ; 
indeed, no ant seems ever to 
consider herself by comparison 
with the interests of the community at large. 
The individual exists for the state alone, and 
sacrifices her life and happiness, automatically 
as it were, on behalf of her city. 

In No, 6 we see an illustration of the 
great muscular strength possessed by ants, 
especially in their gripping jaws or man- 
dibles. Here, two comrades have got hold 
of a dead and rigid prey, which they are 
striving to carry off by main force to the 
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nest ; for ants are omnivorous. They feed 
off whatever turns up handy; all is fish 
that comes to iheir net -they seem almost 
indifferent whether whit they dine off is 
honey or honeydew, a worm or a beetle, a 
dead bird or a departed lizard. A few 
workers will seize whatever edible object they 
happen to find, and combine to drag it away, 
by pushing and pulling, to the 
underground chambers. In this 
particular case, the two ants began 
by hauling together ; but the lower 
one, giving one good tug with her 
jaws, has succeeded in raising the 
whole carcass aloft, and hoisting 
up her astonished neighbour into 
the air on top of it It is impos- 
sible to watch a nest of ants at 
work for any length of time with- 
out being the spectator of many 
such comic little episodes. 

I implied above that ants are 
very fond of honey. But plants 
by no means desire their atten- 
tions ; because, being creeping 
creatures, guided mainly by the 
sense of smell* they 
crawl up the stems 
of one species after 
another, indiscrimi- 
nately, and so do no 
good in setting the 
seeds of any particu- 
lar kind of flower 
To baffle them, ac- 
cord! ngly, many 
plants cover their 

stems with downward-pointing hairs, which 
prove to the ants as impenetrable an 
obstacle as tropical jungles to the human 
explorer ; while other sorts set various traps 
like lobster-pots on their stalks, to catch and 
imprison the unwelcome visitors, But the wild 
English vetches have a still more curious and 
instructive habit, shared by not a few other 
ingenious plants. They buy off the intruders 
by an organised system of blackmail. Below 
the flowers intended for fertilization by flying 
insects, which flit straight from one blossom 
to another of the same kind, the vetches 
put some arrow- shaped guards or stipules, 
so arranged like barriers on the stem that a 
prying ant cannot easily creep past them. In 
the centre of each stipule, however, the plant 
produces a little black gland, which secretes 
honey. This honey is a bribe to the 
marauding ant ; the vetch puts it there in 
order that the insect, finding its progress 
toward the flower blocked, may just stop 


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en route and sip this pittance of nectar, 
leaving the richer and more valuable stock 
of honey in the actual blossom to be rifled 
by the bees which are the honoured guests 
and allies of the vetches. Nature is all full 
of such quaint pints and counterplots, One 
example occurs in a South American tree, so 
very remarkable that I cannot pass it by even 

in this hasty notice, 

A certain ant, very 
common in Brazil, 
has the habit of cut- 
ting large round 
pieces out of the 
leaves of trees, w T hich 
it then conveys to its 
nest for the purpose 
of growing fungi 
upon them — in 
human language, 
making tiny mush- 
room-beds. Now, this 
habit is naturally ob- 
noxious to the trees, 
which produce the 
leaves for their own 
advantage, not for 
the sake of leaf-cut- 
ting ants which hack 
and rob them. To 
guard against the 
burglarious 1 ea f - cu t- 
ters, accordingly, one 
clever South Ameri- 
can acacia has hit 
upon an excellent 
plan of defence. It 
produces curious hollow thorns ; white each 
leaflet has a gland at its bast* which secretes 
honey. Into these hollow thorns, colonies of 
a small and harmless ant migrate, and take up 
their abode there. They live off the honey at 
the base of the leaflets. They thus acquire a 
vested interest in the acacia tree, which is 
their home and territory ; and whenever 
the leaf-cutting ants attack the acacia, the 
little occupants of the thorns and owners of 
the honey-chambers pour out upon them 
in their thousands, and compel the invaders 
to beat a hasty retreat with heavy losses. 
Thus the cunning tree supplies its insect 
body-guard with board and lodging in return 
for efficient protection against the dreaded 
onslaught of the common enemy. 

And now that I have succeeded, I hope, 
in interesting you a little in the habits of ants, 
lam going to tell you a few facts about their 
structure. That is my dodginess, you see ■ 
I knew if I began by giving you details of 




legs and body and segments, you would 
vote the whole thing dry ; but now that you 
understand what sort of objects the ant wants 
to attain, you may be content to examine 
the organs she attains them with. 

In No, 7 you have a portrait of the 
common Garden Ant of England, one of the 


most interesting 
watch in action, 
therefore, it has 
powerful jaws ; 
that ants work 

creatures in the world to 
This is a worker specimen ; 
a very big head, with very 
and when you remember 
for the most part with the 

head on!y p you will understand why that 
portion needs to be the most muscular and 
powerFul part of the body. A lobster has 
two very strong claws in front, because 
those are his fighting and prey-catching 
organs ; the ant's jaws just answer in 
function to the lobster's claws, and to our 
hands and arms, and, therefore, they are 
correspondingly big and muscular. Male 
and female ants do not have to dig tunnels, 
to build up chambers, to drag heavy weights 
back to the nest ; therefore, they have smaller 
heads and bigger eyes ; they are adapted only 
for flying and for producing the younger 
generation. The middle 
segments of the body, on 
the contrary, are large and 
powerful in the males and 
females, because they have 
to work the wings ; while 
in the workers they are 
smaller, especially in one 
segment, because the 
workers are wingless. The 
legs, however, are fairly 
strong, since they need to 
pull and to supply a firm 
footing when the ant is 
tugging hard at some heavy 

object* But between the part of the body 
which forms the attachment for the six legs 
and the abdomen, or ** tail } " there is a single 
characteristic segment, or stalk, very thin and 
slender, which bears a sort of scale, peculiar 
to the ant family. The side view, with the 
legs removed, enables you to note how 
admirably the ant is adapted for turning 
in almost any direction, and explains 
that extraordinary flexibility of body 
which you must have noticed whenever 
you have watched a troop of ants trying 
to drag a dead insect over a gravel 
path, and surmounting all obstacles with 
clumsy ingenuity. Ants, in short, are 
built for navvies ; they are insect engi- 
neers, and they have acquired a form 
exactly adapted to their peculiar habits. 

But why are the worker ants so nearly 
blind? That must surely be a disad- 
vantage to them. Not a bit of it. Ants 
work mainly in dark underground 
passages, where the sense of sight would 
be of little use ; and, moreover, like 
all hunting animals, they find smell 
more important as an indicator of food 
in the open than vision. The hound does 
not look for the fox — he sniffs and scents 
him. Now, whenever any sense is relatively 
unimportant, an economy may be effected by 
suppressing or curtailing it ; the material that 
would otherwise go to making and repairing 
its organ is more profitably employed on 
some better work elsewhere. Ants are 
obviously descendants of flying ancestors, 
none of which were workers ; and the flying 
males and females possess to this day the 
organs of sight necessary for their habits. 
But in the class of workers it has been found 
more useful, on the whole, to concentrate 
attention on smell and on strength of jaw 
than on sight and flight : the important point 
is that the worker ant should be able to find 
scattered foodstuffs, and should be strong 
enough to pull them back 
to the city- So, in No, 8, 
you get a front view of 
the head of the common 
Garden Ant ; and you will 
see for yourself that its 
eyes, when compared with 
the numerous eyelets and 
large compound organs of 
the wasp, are relatively im- 
perfect ; while its antennae 
arc large and fully developed 
appendages. They turn in 
a beautiful ball-and-socket 
he^d of garden an_t, with eves, ■ ■ , v u: c u enables them 


s ,[ Original from 





smaller representation of the entire leg on 
which it exists, so as to enable you to see 
where the ant carries it. Ants, indeed, are 
as fond of washing themselves as cats ; and 
when any accident happens to one, such as 

getting smeared with 
honey, you will see 
the little creature 
carefully getting rid 
of the foreign body 
with her hairy legs, 
and paying particu- 
lar attention to her 
precious antennae. 
The mere existence 
of such developed 
brushes is sufficient 
to prove the im- 
mense importance of the organs they clean 
to the bee-and-ant order. 

The life-history of an ant falls into four 
periods or ages : the egg, the grub, the pupa, 
and the perfect insect. The eggs, which are 
very tiny, nre white or yellowish, and some- 
what elongated \ those observed by Sir John 
Lubbock, the great authority on ants, have 
taken a month or six weeks to hatch. The 
larvae, like the young of bees and wasps, are 
white, legless grubs, narrow 1 towards the head. 
The picture in No. 2, indeed, only imper- 
fectly suggests the constant care with which 
they are tended by the nurses in early life ; 
for they are carried about from room to room 
at different times, apparently to secure the 
exactly proper degree of warmth or moisture ; 
and they are also often assorted in a sliding- 

scaleofages, ** It 
is sometimes very 
curious to see 
them in my nests," 
says Sir John Lub- 
bock, ^arranged 
in groups accord- 
ing to size, so that 
they remind one 
of a school divided 
into five or six 
classes/' After a 
longer or shorter 
period of grub- 
hood, which dif- 
fers in length in 
different species, 
they turn into 
pupae, either in a 
cocoon or naked. 
It takes the insects 
three or four 


(~\ Original from 


to move freely in every direction. Now, these 
antennae quite clearly serve several most im- 
portant uses in ant life* They are the 
organs of speech in ants, as well as the 
organs of a special sense ; just as, with us 
ourselves, the mouth 
is used equally for 
tasting and talking, 
Darwin said with 
justice, indeed, that, 
considering its size, 
the brain of an ant 
was perhaps the 
most marvellous 
piece of matter in 
the whole universe; 
and its raw material 
of intelligence is 

apparently supplied it most of all through 
the mysterious antennae. 

No. 9 is a back view of the same head, 
with the various jaws and mouthpieces ex- 
panded* It shows very well the complicated 
nature of the tongue, the palps, the shield, 
and so forth, and also the powerful nipping 
jaws, with their closely serrated and tooth-like 
edge — these last being the weapons used in 
battle and in repelling the attacks of large 
enemies. It also excellently exhibits the 
complex arrangement of the beautiful jointed 
an ten n £e, whose movements appear to serve 
the ants in place of language. The black 
spot in the centre of the head above is the 
cut neck, or esophagus, I advise you to 
look closely at the mouth-organs in this micro- 
scopic drawing, and to compare them with 
the corresponding 
parts in the wasp, 
illustrated by Mr. 
Enock in the last 

Con sidering 
how important 
the antennas are, 
it will not surprise 
you to learn that 
the clean little ants 
have a special 
instrument, like 
the bees and 
wasps, for keeping 
these useful out- 
growths in proper 
order. The singu- 
lar brush-and- 
comb with which 
they clean them is 
shown in No. io, 
together with a 




form, to develop into full - grown ants ; 
and even when they have finished, they 
are as helpless as babies, and could not 
escape from the cocoon but for the kind 
offices of the worker attendants. " It is 
pretty to see the older ants helping 
them to extricate themselves, carefully un- 
folding the legs and smoothing out the 
wings " of the males and females, " with truly 
feminine tenderness and delicacy." This 
utter helplessness of the young ant is very 
interesting for comparison with the case of 
man ; for it is now known that nothing con- 
duces to the final intellectual and moral 
supremacy of a race so much as the need for 
tending and carefully guarding the young; 
the more complete the dependence of the 
offspring upon their elders, the finer and 
higher the ultimate development. 

Ants are likewise great domesticators of 
various other animals ; indeed, they keep many 
more kinds of flocks and herds in confinement 
than we ourselves do. Besides the green-flies, 
which I have already treated in a previous 
paper, and which the ants use as cows, milking 
them for their honey-dew, a large selection of 
beetles and other insects are commonly found 
in ants' nests. Then there is a funny little 
pallid creature, called Beckia, an active, 
bustling small thing, remotely resembling a 
minute earwig-larva, which runs in and out 
among the ants in great numbers, keeping 
its antennae always in a state of perpetual 
vibration. The nests also harbour a queer, 
armour-plated white wood-louse, whose long 
Latin-German name I mercifully spare you ; 
and this strange beast toddles about quite 
familiarly among the ants in the galleries. 
Both kinds must have been developed in 
ants' nests from darker animals ; and both 
are blind, from long residence in the 
dark underground tunnels which they never 
quit; their lightness of colour and the dis- 
appearance of their eyes tend alike to show 
that they and their ancestors have resided for 
countless ages in the homes of the ants. 
Yet no ant ever seems to take the slightest 
notice of them. Still, there they are, and the 
ants tolerate their presence ; while an un- 
authorized interloper, as Sir John Lubbock 
remarks, would at once be set upon and 
killed. The accomplished entomologist in 
question suggests that they may perhaps act 
as scavengers, like the wild dogs of Constanti- 
nople or the turkey-buzzard vultures of the 
West Indies and South America. I have some- 
times almost been inclined to suspect, myself, 

that they may be kept as totems, much as 
human savages domesticate one of their 
revered ancestral animals as an object of 

In other cases the relation between the 
ants and their domesticated animals is more 
distinctly economical. For instance, there is 
a blind beetle — most ant-cattle are blind from 
long residence in the tunnels — which has 
actually lost the power of feeding itself; but 
the ants feed it with their own food, and then 
caress it with their antennae, apparently in 
order to make it give forth some pleasant 
secretion. This secretion seems to be poured 
out by a tuft of hairs at the base of the beetle's 
hard wing-cases ; these tufts of hair the ants 
take into their mouths and lick all over with the 
greatest relish. Some ant tribes even strike 
up an alliance with other ants of a different 
species, whose nest they frequent and whom 
they follow in all their wanderings. Thus, 
there is a very tiny yellow ant, known as 
Stenamma, which takes up its abode in the 
galleries of the much larger Horse Ants and 
Field Ants. When these big friends change 
their quarters to a new nest, as frequently 
happens, the tiny Stenammas accompany 
them, " running about among them," says 
Sir John Lubbock, " and between their 
legs, tapping them inquisitively with their 
antennae, and even sometimes climbing on 
to their backs, as if for a ride, while the large 
ants seem to take little notice of them. 
They almost seem to be the dogs, or perhaps 
the cats, of the ants." In yet another case, 
a wee parasitic kind makes its own small 
tunnels in and out among those of a much 
larger species, members of which cannot get 
at the petty robbers, because they are them- 
selves too big to enter the minute galleries. 
The depredators are, therefore, quite safe, 
and make incursions into the nests of their 
bigger victims, whose larvae they carry off and 
devour — "as if we had small dwarfs, about 
eighteen inches long, harbouring in the walls 
of our houses, and every now and then carry- 
ing off some of our children into their horrid 

When once one begins upon these fasci- 
nating insects, the difficulty is to know when 
to stop. But I have said enough, I hope, to 
suggest to you the extraordinary interest of 
the study of ant life. Even if observed in 
the most amateurish way, it affords one 
opportunities for endless amusing glimpses 
into the politics of a community full of comic 
episodes and tragic denouements. 

by Google 

Original from 

A Story for Childrkn, 
By Canning Williams- 

O, old fellow/' I said, address- 
ing my dog; "not to-night" 
Philo dropped his tail, and 
in his expressive eyes ap- 
peared a look of disappoint- 
ment, which made me regret 
my words, I opened the drawer in which I 
keep my heavy boots and my leggings, and 
stood looking at them half inclined to don 
them j and face, for my dog's sake, the 
drenching rain. But the brightly -burning 
fire and the easy -chair were magnets too 
powerful for me to overcome ; so the drawer 
was closed, and, instead of heavy boots and 
leather leggings, I donned my comfortable 
carpet slippers. 

"No, old boy," I repeated, as Philo placed 
his head upon my 
knee, and looked 
appealingly into 
my face, M it is 
too wet for a run 
to-night. Cold, 
wind, hail, and 
snow I can stand 
well enough, but 
a drenching 
drizzle is too 
much for me." 

Just here, my 
housekeeper en- 
tered the room. 

"Was your 
eggs cooked as 
you like, Mr. 
Smith?" she 
asked, in her kind 
but ungram- 
rnatical way. 

" They were cooked, as you always cook 
my eggs, Mrs, Jones — perfectly.* 1 

"You are not goinq out to-night, 

" No, it is too wet, and your fire is in such 
admirable condition that— well, the fact is, I 
am lazy to night." 

"Yes, I think that must be it," Mrs. 
Jones replied, "for nothing has kept you in 

"Do not light the lamp, Mrs. Jones; I 
would prefer to sit in the firelight, No, 
I am not ill," I said, answering her look of 
astonishment; "nor in love; just a little 
drowsy, that is all." 

Mrs. Jones closed the door (I fancied I 
heard her say, "There must be something the 
matter with him "), and Philo and I and the 
fire were left to ourselves. 

by Google 



Original from 



" A most excellent cooker of eggs, is Mrs, 
J.," I said to my companion (silent com- 
panions are often the best of company) ; 
" most excellent. Few people can be relied 
upon to always cook one's eggs properly, but 
Mrs. J. is one of the few." 

" Eggs ! What a lot of eggs you have 
eaten," an inner voice said to me. "You 
eat one every morning, sometimes two. You 
must have eaten an egg and a half a day for 
the past thirteen years, without counting those 
you have eaten in puddings and pies." 

Here my brain set to work at figures, an 
occupation it is accustomed to. Thirteen 
multiplied by three hundred and sixty-five : 
four thousand seven hundred and forty-five. 
Four thousand seven hundred and forty-five 
multiplied by one and a half: seven thousand 
one hundred and seventeen and a half. 

" Seven thousand one hundred and seven- 
teen and a half" the inner voice repeated, 
chidingly, putting particular stress 
on the " half " ; " seven thousand 
one hundred and seventeen and a 
half, and a half." 

" Did it never strike you," the 
voice said, after a short interval of 
silence, "did it never strike you 
that each time you cut off the top 
of an egg you killed a chicken ? " 

I said something to the effect 
that the egg was not a chicken 
when it came to my plate. 

" Did you never think," the voice 
continued, solemnly, "did you 
never think of its poor mother ? " 

I confessed I had never given 
its mother a thought 

" Have you no " The question was 

interrupted by Philo's giving a low, long 

"What is it, Philo?" Another growl, 
longer and louder than the first. " He must 
be dreaming," I thought. Another growl, 
and this time Philo raised his head from my 
knee and looked towards the door. 

" What's the matter with you, old fellow ? 
Been dreaming ? " But Philo was not to be 
thus quieted ; growling in his fier^ *st way, he 
walked to the door and began to sniff along 
the bottom of it. I rose from my chair and, 
holding Philo by the collar, opened the door, 
when, to my utter astcmishment, I saw stand- 
ing upon the cold oilcloth a tiny chicken. 
Philo looked at the downy mite and then at 
me, and said as plainly as his eyes could 
speak, " You need not hold me ; I will not 
harm the little creature." 

The chicken was not at all frightened of 

the great dog. Giving a chirp of delight, it 
hopped under Philo's legs, tripped rapidly up 
to the fireplace, and, much to my amusement, 
perched upon the brass rail of the fender. I 
shut the door, Philo and I taking up our 
positions in front of the fire, and quietly 
watching the tiny bird. 

Presently, however, Philo gave another 
growl, and again sniffed at the bottom of the 

" Can it be another chicken ? " thought I. 
" There must be a brood of them somewhere, 
and yet 'tis a strange time of year to hatch 
chickens." I opened the door. Imagine my 
surprise when I saw five chickens, twin 
brothers and sisters of the first, standing in a 
row on the door-mat. 

" Come in, chickens," I said ; " make your- 
selves at home." They required no second 
invitation, but hopped quickly across the 
carpet and joined their friend upon the rail. 
It was an amusing sight, these 
six chickens perched in a row 
on the fender, and it made me 

v »W 



by Google 

laugh more heartily than ever a pantomime 
did, or a joke in a funny paper. Philo was 
not less amused than I, but as he could not 
laugh, he satisfied himself with assuming the 
most comical expression of countenance I 
had ever seen him wear. 

Five minutes later, Philo again indicated 
that there were some more chicken visitors 

" This is much more than a joke. But let 
me see," I said, trying to recall my own 
chicken-rearing experiences, " a brood usually 
consists of thirteen; at least, that is the 
number when they all hatch out. Well, I 
think the rail will accommodate thirteen." 
So saying, I opened the door, expecting to 
see seven chicks waiting for admission. 
There w T ere only three. 

"So here you are, little ones," I said; 
" better late than not at all. Come in, plenty 
of room on the rail." 

Original from 



Nine chickens were now perched before 
the fire, 

" I think, Philo, we had better leave the 
door open," I said ; " those other four chicks 

Philo had been reared in the country, and 
was used to the sight of chickens, but never 
had he seen so large a brood of them. 
Chickens were above him ; chickens were 


will be coming presently, and this constant 
getting up is tiring to old bones. 7 ' 

I had not been seated many minutes when 
I heard a pattering of tiny feet upon the 

" Ah, here they are," I said, without 
troubling to turn my head, u Come in, 
friends, don't stand upon ceremony this cold 
night ; we will dispense with an introduction* 
Your brothers and sisters are all here, so 
don't be af ra i d . One — two — three — four 5 
that makes the thirteen. What, another ' 

under him ; chickens were standing 

on his tail; and, as I have said* 

:i chicken was perched on his head. 

Still the tide of chickens flowed Philo, 

who now resembled a black rock in a yellow 

sea of chickens, looked helplessly towards me 

for assistance. 

"Poor old Philo," I said, comfortingly; 
"good dog. Chickens soon go away." 

But they didn't go, nor did they show the 
least inclination to go, " Perhaps," I thought, 
"perhaps they will go when their feeding- 
time comes round." 


And another ! Sixteen- 

— nine teen --twenty ! " 

-seventeen — eighteen -= 

"whatever cap* Tins mean?" 

The pattering increased, as thouyh a whole 
army of chickens was on the march. " What- 
ever can this mean ? " I asked myself, in blank 
dismay, as chickens by the hundred poured 
into the room. Some hopped upon the chairs 
and the table ; others climbed upon the 
mantelpiece and the book shelves ; while one 
chicken — an impudent youngster— clambered 
to the top of Philo's head. 

by Google 

But they were far too happy and contented 
to be hungry. Indeed, it was this making 
themselves so much at home in my room 
that made me speak seriously to them, I 
am usually patient and good-tern {>ered, but 
the sight of those chickens, dressing their 
downy feathers and carrying on their private 
conversations, was more than my patience 
and good temper could bear. They had no 





consideration for either Pbilo or nit;. They 
paid us no respect, nor were they afraid of 
us ; and how is it possible for big things like 
Newfoundland dogs and full-grown men to 
be happy among little things like chickens, 
unless the little things act in a becoming way 
by being respectful and timid ? 

"Chickens/ 5 I said, in a tone of firmness, 
"this is more than a joke. I like a bit of 
fun as well as anybody, but this invasion of 
my room — my Englishman's castle— is not 
fun, but downright impudence. I should be 
very sorry to make an unfair use of my great 
strength or of my dog's sharp teeth, but I 
shall be compelled to do so unless you begin 
to make a move." 

I expected this speech would have sent 
the chickens pell-mell, helter-skelter out of 
the room, but all it did was to make one of 

the chickens on the table stretch 
itself to its full height and give a 
tiny crow of defiance, 
A crisis was approaching. 
Philo," I said, "growl" He 
did so, making a rumbling noise 
like distant thunder. 

The chickens paused from their 
various occupations, but only for an 

" Philo," I said, 
"bark/ 1 He barked, 
and such a bark it 
was ! It shook the 
ornaments on the 
mantelpiece, and 
made the fire-irons 
dance a jig upon 
the fender. 

"Another.' 1 He 
gave another, and 
may I never hear 
such a bark again ! 
But the chickens 
treated Philo's exer- 
tions as an enter- 
tainment for their 
amusement, some 
of them even going 
the length of ap- 
plauding the per- 
formance by stamp- 
ing their feet. 

"Philo," I said, 
"show your teeth." 
He showed them 
— all of them — 
making a snapping 
noise to add to the 
effect. But the 
only effect it had upon the chickens was to 
increase the stamping* and create a chorus 
of chirpy laughter. One of the chickens on 
the mantelpiece, excited by the exhibition, 
jumped clean on to the crown of my head, 
making its position secure by digging its 
claws into my hair. 

The time had come for me to make 
another speech. 

"Chickens," I said, solemnly, "prepare to 
die* It is a pity to spoil my carpet with 
your blood, because it is a new and a 
costly one, and blood-stains, I am told, 
are hard to remove ; but it shall never be 
said that Theophilus Smith shrank from 
doing his duty, from carpet considerations. 
No, rather than that should be said, he would 
sacrifice everything he possessed ! In order 
to give you the chance of retiring before my 




teeth, of which, as 
particularly good 

dog and 1 begin the onslaught, I will take a 
little time in describing our method of attack. 
(Attend, Philo.) We shall commence the 
attack from the rear, first shutting the door 
to cut off all chance of escape in that direc 
tion. The only exit left you will be the 
chimney, and the way to the chimney is 
through the burning fire. My dog will 
attack the right flank, while I engai^e the 
left. He will use his 
you have seen, he has 
set ; my weapon will be that heavy club 
that stands in the corner yonder, a score of 
you dying each time I make a blow. You 
who are not on the floor/' I continued, u shall 
be disposed of differently. It would be 
dangerous to the furniture to use the club in 
your case : I shall therefore adopt another plan 
— a plan that will be both startling and novel 
I will not explain it in detail, but will merely 
state that it is a quick and a deadly one. 
When the battle is over, and our honour 
upheld, your bodies will be buried in a deep 
grave, which Philo will have great pleasure in 
making for you. One shall be spared : one 
to tell the tale of his comrades' fate, and to 
warn all chickens against trifling with men 

and dogs* No one can say that " 

But just here my attention was drawn to a 
small black object that was making its way 
into the room. I looked hard at it, and at 
last discovered that it was half a chicken. I 
noticed that the chickens on the floor made 
way for the black visitor, bowing their heads 
to the ground, and looking very humble. 

(l I beg your pardon, Sir Fraction,'' I said- 
11 1 imagine, Sir Fraction, that you are the 
- person — no— the — the " 

<f The Commander-in-Chief," said the 
Fraction, coming to my assistance. 

" Thank you," I said : " will you be so 
good as to command these chickens to right- 
about-turn-quick -march out of this room ? I 
have had as much of their company as I 

" Sir," replied the Fraction, haughtily, "I 
do not take my instructions from you J" 

The contempt with which he said (f you" 
was most amusing. "From whom, then, do 
you take your instructions ?" I asked. 

** Do not question me, sir ; it is not for 
you to address your betters," So saying, he 
jumped on to my knee, and stared me 
defiantly in the face. 

With one movement of my hand I could 
have swept the Commander-in-Chief into the 
fire, but I merely smiled The Commander 
was not so polite, but puckered his eyebrow 
with a frown, and glared at me with his one 
eye in a most angry way. 

Turning round, and facing the main body 
of his troops, he cried, " Fall in ! JJ 

li He is going to drill them," I said to 
myself; "this will be interesting." 

At the word of command, {i Fall in ! " the 
chickens on the floor ranged themselves in 
lines of two deep. 

11 Attention ! Form fours ! " The move- 
ment was not done to the satisfaction of the 


"This is some big gun amongst them," I 
thought ; " I will address his lordship. Ciood 
evening," I said, in my politest way; "I 
imagine you are the chicken M 

" Excuse me, sir," the little creature said, 
with a lordly -ir, " I am not a chicken— I am 
a fraction," 

by LiOOgle 

" As you were ! " he shouted, at the top of 
his voice, " Form fours ! Right turn ! By 
the right, quick march ! " 

The chickens marched across the room, 
keeping step in the grandest style, which was 
the more surprising because there was no 
band to keep them right. 





"Right about turn!" roared the Com- 
mander The chickens turned round without 
breaking the line a hair's breadth. 

" Halt ! " cried the Commander. Instantly 
the moving ranks came to a dead halt. Not 
a single chick in the whole battalion moved 
a muscle an instant after that halt. The 
Fraction was pleased. "Front!" he said. 
" Stand at ease ! " 

u Now," said the Commander-in-Chief, 
proudly facing me, "what do you think of 

" I think," said I, " that it was a sight that 
would do the heart of any soldier good. I 
am sorry our Commander-in-Chief has not 
had the opportunity of seeing to what a state 
of perfection you have brought your troops, 
I shall not fail to tell him the next time I 
smoke a cigar with him." 

The Fraction bowed, and, turning to his 
army, cried, " Attention ! Number ! " 

Clearly and rapidly did the chickens 
respond to the order. (( One — two — three — 
four — five— six — seven— eight — nine — ten — 
twenty — thirty — forty — fifty — sixty- seventy 
— eighty — - ninety — one hundred — two 
hundred- -three hundred— four hundred — 
five hundred — six hundred — seven hundred — 
eight hundred — nine hundred —one thousand 
—two thousand— three thousand — four thou- 
sand—five thousand— six thousand/' 

At six thousand the numbering ceased, 
much to my relief. 

" Our main body," said the Fraction, 
addressing me in a quiet, gentlemanly tone, 
"consists of six thousand chickens. Our 
reserve force numbers a little over a thousand." 

Here he turned towards the chickens on 
the table, the mantelpiece, and the book- 
shelves, and called, in a powerful voice, 
" Reserve ! Number ! " 

by Google 

Equally smartly the reserve numbered 
themselves, the last number being one 
thousand one bundled and fifteen. 

" One thousand one hundred and fifteen," 
the Commander said to himself, like one 
engaged in a mental calculation j " that 
cannot be right Chickens of the reserve," 
he spoke aloud, "a mistake has been made 
in the numbering. Unless the two chickens 
who have not numbered do so at once, you 
shall all have half an hour's punishment drill/ 1 

"One thousand one hundred and sixteen," 
squeaked the chick on Philo's head 

"One thousand one hundred and seven- 
teen," piped the youngster who had concealed 
himself at the back of my neck. 

"Six thousand of the main body," said 
the Fraction, bowing politely to me, "and 
one thousand one hundred and seventeen of 
the reserve ; a total of seven thousand one 
hundred and seventeen. Adding to this 
your humble servant, who is reckoned as a 
half, you have the grand total of seven 
thousand one hundred and seventeen and 
a half." 

It was the number of eggs I had eaten ! 

"Are you familiar with the number? 
Ever met with it before?" said the Com- 
mander-in-Chief, looking knowingly at me 
out of his one eye. " Eh? " 

" Exceedingly probable," I replied, care- 

" Well ? " said the Fraction. 

"Well," I replied, "proceed." 

" Impudent monster 1 " said he. " Apolo- 

"What! To a Fraction? Never! I 
defy thee, and thy troops as well ! " 

The Commander-in-Chief was nettled. 
Turning quickly round, he cried, in a loud 
voice, " Present arms ! " 

Original from 




To my utter astonishment (for I had not 
the least idea the chickens were armed), each 
chick presented a tiny rifle of the latest and 
most deadly pattern. 

The Fraction faced me again and repeated 
his former question : " Well ? " 

" Bucket/ 1 I replied, 

The Fraction's eye glittered with rage. 
" Ready I w he cried 

In less time than it takes to tell, six 
thousand cartridges were placed in position. 

" Present ! " Six thousand rifle-barrels 
were directed at my head. 

The Commander, as though to give me a 
last chance to apologize, addressed me as 
before; "Well?" 

"Yes," I said, "I have seen the well at 

" Man," hissed the Fraction, in a frenzy, 
11 do you wish to die ? n 

"Well, really," I replied, ^ that is rather 
an important question to settle offhand. I 
will consider the matter, and let you have an 
answer in due course, as we say in business* J1 

" Man," said the Commander, quite 
furiously for half a chicken, " six thousand 
loaded rifles are at this instant directed at 
you. I have but to give the word, and you 
are riddled through and through with six 
thousand bullets." 

"Well?" I said, using the Fraction's word. 

11 Shall I give that word ? }i 

11 Please yourself, my dear sir — do not 
consider me in the least ; besides you do 
not take your instructions from me." 

'man, too vol: wish to Dit* 

Carisbrooke Castle, and the donkey in the 
wheel. It is a big donkey to work that 
wheel all the day long, but it is not such a 
big donkey as you are, Sir Fraction, if you 
think lam afraid of you or your fledglings/' 

M Well ? " repeated the Fraction, angrily. 

"Exactly," I replied; "the wheel is 

attached to a rope, and the rope to a bucket, 

and as the wheel goes round the bucket 

comes up. J? 
« We]1 ? » 

" I think a photograph will show you more 
clearly what 1 mean." I was in the act of 
reaching for my photograph album, when I 
felt a sharp prick in the cheek. It was from 
the point of the Fraction's sword, which 
needle-like weapon he was now flourishing in 
a threatening way around his head. 

The Fraction, muttering u Vengeance ! 5I 
turned sharply round on his one leg, and I 
saw plainly enough that he was about to give 
the word that would end my fate. 

" Britons never shall be slaves ! " I shouted 
" England expects that every man and dog 
this day shall do his duty ! Three cheers 
for the roast beef of Old England ! On, 
Stanley, on ! Charge, Chester, charge ! 
Philo for ever ! God save the Queen ! 

The Fraction waited until I had finished, 

M Fire ! " 

A noise like the pealing of thunder followed 
close upon the word. I started— gasped — 
awoke ! 

The fire was out, but Philo's noble head 
still lay upon my knee 

by Google 

Original from 


\We shall be glad to receive Contributions to this section^ attd to pay for wh as are accepted. 
The rider of this tricycle is an ingenious person who 
obviously doesn't care much for violent ejection. The 
machine is a really good one, and is independent of the 
sails. The photo, was sent in by Mr, G. If. Hanson, 
of 59, Windsor Road, South port, Italics. " Th e gen tie- 
man in command," writes Mr, Hanson, "can, with a 
favourable wind, cover the ground at the rale of nlmtil 
twelve knots an hour — of course, using his pedals also. 

Photo, by (Vtfta, S«uthport. 

The photo, was taken some years ago, before scorching 
became a crime in the eyes of all classes. As the 
rider shot through the streets in a high wind, he 
caused quite as much commotion among the in habi- 
tants as though these latter were South Sea Isl-mders, 
instead of staid English citizens, used to motor-cars 
and other eccentric modes of travelling." 

This curious photo- 
graph was taken and 
sent in by the Rev. 
W. W, Bolton, M.A., 
of 2311, Union Street, 
San Francisco, Cali- 
fornia, U.S-A, Mr, 
Bolton assures us that 
scores of plates were 
tried in vain before 
finally a fish was 
caught, and " snapped " 
successfully* The log 
seen in the photo, is a 
common feature of the 
running streams of the 
"Wild West/* The 
torrential nature of the 
stream is extremely 
well indicated in the 
photo. The fish which 
was photographed so 
successfully in the 
turbulent stream was in 
the act of leaping up ■ 
fall when it was taken 
by the photographer. 

It is to Mr. Aubrey Colquhomi that we are indebted 
for a photograph of the extremely remarkable natural 
curiosity which is next reproduced. Mr. Colquhoun 
writes : "I have a tree in my garden which has tied 
itself into a knot in its growth ; the knot is more than 
I2in. in circumference," No doubt some years ago 
this branch, at that lime a mere twig, got twisted or 
knotted in some way, and was never afterwards 
disturbed, the result being that in time it became 
impossible to untie ihis curious knot. This remarkable 
growth does not interfere with the vitality of the tree. 

by LiGOglC 




From a Photo J*u] 


W. Jaim^r Trvrtdhjem. 

litre is a very extraordinary photo- 
graph, for which we are indebted to 
Dole (or Didiehen, of Kotvald, Levan- 
ger, Trondhjem> Norway, The worthy 
doctor sends us the following m forma- 
tion : " The town of Levanger was 
utterly destroyed by fire in May, 1 897, 
Out of 120 houses, only atom twenty — 
and they of the very smallest — were 
left standing. The unfortunate inhabi- 
tant s were compelled to vise ten Is as 
dwelling places until such time as the 
town could to rebuilt. Some of these 
tents are seen in the photo." When 
this photo, was taken* the ruins were 
still smoking. The ruins, by the way, 
presemed a very curious appearance, 
mainly by reason of the fact that most 
of the chimneys were left standing, 
whilst the houses to which they tie- 
longed were utterly destroyed. 


Mr. Ernest C Jefiery, of 5, E^icca- 
d illy | Liradford, writes as follows : 
41 1 laving seen among the * Curiosities ' 
in your Nov cm tor number a result 
arising from two photographs having 
been taken on the same negative s I now send you a 
print of the result of three photos* quite accidentally 
taken in the very same way. The photos, taken were 
in the first place really portraits of individuals, only 
the dog chanced to be at the person's feet in each 
case. The figures, however, have disappeared in the 
background whilst the dog has remained. Some time 
elapsed tot ween the taking of the first and second 
photographs, and in each case after taking the photo, 
the camera was taken away altogether* When at 
length a plate was developed, the result was what you 
see in the reproduction," 

by L^OOgle 

The photo, here shown is a view of the interior of 
Warner's Cobweb Palace in San Francisco. The cob- 
welks on ihe ceiling represent the accumulation of 
forty-two years. The house was built in the year 
1856, and the ceiling has never been touched since 
that time* The place is now a curiosity shop, and 
enjoys much notoriety, it is, however, atout to to 
pulled down— the inevitable fate of interesting old 
places. We are indebted fur the use of the plicito. 
to Mr, Frank S. Shaw, 93, Toolhill Road, Lough- 

Original from 



Photo, sent in by Mrs. Echalaz, of Wil lough ton 
Vicarage, Lincoln, and taken by Miss Stead, of 
Waterloo, Liverpool* This interesting relic is now 
in the possession of the vicar and churchwardens* It 
is an antique tin speaking-trumpet, formerly used to 
summon labourers home to meals, or to send messages 

Hold the above curiosify some little distance away 
from you, and a really beautiful picture of a woodland 
scene will, so to speak, grow upon you* And yet, 
the origin of this work of art is hum hie p not to 
say even ominous, *' Requiring a piece of black 
paper," writes Mr*. (lill>ert S. Yeoman, of 49, 
Penn Road Villas, Holloway, N. r "I inked a 
piece of white paper all over, ami then on blotting 
it this picture was 
quite accidentally 
produced. It has not 
l»een touched up in 
any way." 

to the men in the fields. By means of this trumpet 
the natural voice is clearly heard at a distance of one 
mile. The trumpet is 5ft* Sin. long, and probably 
two or three centuries old. 

This photo, was sent 
to us by Mr. M. LX 
Haas, of 80, South 1st 
Street, San Jose, Cali- 
fornia, It shows an 
old man — quite a local 
celebrity — in full 
Klondike marching 
order- Provisions and 
every other requisite 
are packed in Ihe back 
of the light trap, which 
vehicle would have to 
be disposed of atDyea, 
where the miners may 
be said to commence 
the ascent of the O11I- 
coot Pass. It will lie 
noticed that the old 
man's mule carries a 
pack saddle. 




PLIABLE <W,Xtf> 1'l.ATKS. 
These things represent four extremely curious plates of 
spun plaited glass, ihe workmanship heing Chinese. They 
arc all of different colours— red, green, blue, and yellow ; ami 
the strange thing about them is that although 1 hey are made 
ff ^lass, one can lieml them back wards and forwards almost 
as i hi mgh they were putty pr pliable clay. They require to be 
handled can fully, however, otherwise they are apt to cut one's 
hand. We are indebted for the photo, to Mr. 11. M. Main, 
of Blair fridge, Polmont, Stirling, X.R 

A L'ltOl'Oiik AI'HK tlRltf. 
Sent in by Mr. M:u Lirbjrh, o[ 
2z t St. John Street, Montreal, 
Canada. If you turn the photo, 
upside down, and hold it a little 
way from you, the inverted Unm of 
the child appears as a perfect 
human skull. Mr. Liehich took 
this snap-shot in his garden, the 
child l>cing one of his own little 

Messrs, Warburg, Dymond, and 
Co., engineers and contractors, of 
3, Prince's Mansions, Victoria 
Street , S-W.j send the accompany- 
ing photo, and description : " Our 
firm was called in to test the 
electrical arrangements of a large 
West -end club. We found a bad 
leak to earth, This was caused 
by a mouse having eaten away the 
easing, and also the ruhlier insula- 
tion of the wire. When the casing was palled out 
from behind a brick wall, the dead mouse was Found 
across both wires, having apparently met his death 
by the approved form of American electrocution." 

wafer from a 

by Google 

Frniii a PAftln. by A, Simon, Ea*t Dvlairh. S.R. 

This is probably one of the most successful inatan- 
taneous^photos. ever taken, It shows a man throwing 
pail. lie did not know he was 
being photographed, 
and when he saw the 
original of our re- 
production, he was 
greatly surprised to 
know that he had 
raised his hands 
alnjve his head. It 
is evident from the 
photograph that a 
sharp, jerky move- 
ment must have Wen 
imparted to the water 
as it left the pail. So 
rapid was ihe actual 
taking of (he photo. 
that even the water 
which left the pail 
lirxt had iK it had tune 

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(""rw^nL'' Original from 




{Set page 253.) 

by Google 

Original from 

The Strand Magazine. 

Vol. xv. 

MARCH, 1898. 

No. 87. 

The Brotherhood of the Seven Kings. 

By L. T. Meade and Robert Eustace. 
III.— THE SWING OF THE PENDULUM.— Told by Norman Head. 

HERE was now little doubt 
that Mme. Koluchy knew her- 
self to be in personal danger. 
On the Derby Day I had 
thrown down the gauntlet with 
a vengeance — her object hence- 
forth would be to put me out of the way. I 
lived in an atmosphere of intangible mystery, 
which was all the darker and more horrible 
because it was felt, not seen. 

By Dufrayer's advice, I left the bringing of 
this dangerous woman to justice in his 
hands. He employed the cleverest and 
most up-to-date detectives to have her secretly 
watched, and from time to time they brought 
us their reports. Clue after clue arose; each 
clue was carefully followed, but it invariably 
led to disappointing results. Madame eluded 
every effort to bring a definite charge against 
her. The money we were spending, however, 
was not entirely in vain. We learned that 
her influence and the wide range of her 
acquaintances were far beyond what we had 
originally surmised. Her fame as a healer, 
her marvellous and occult cures, the reputa- 
tion of her great wealth and dazzling beauty 
increased daily, and I was certain that before 
long I should meet her in the lists. The 
encounter was destined to come sooner even 
than I had anticipated, and in a manner most 

It was the beginning of the following 
November that I received an invitation to 
dine with an old friend, Harry de Brett 
He was several years my senior, and had 
recently succeeded to his father's business in 
the City — an old-established firm of bankers, 
whose house was in St. Mark's Court, Grace- 
church Street Only a few days previously 
I had seen it announced in the society papers 
that a marriage had been arranged between 

De Brett's only daughter, Geraldine, and the 

Duke of Friedeck, a foreign nobleman, whose 
name I had seen figuring prominently at 
many a function the previous season. I had 
known Geraldine since she was a child, and 
was glad to have an opportunity of offering 
my congratulations. 

At the appointed hour, I found myself at 
De Brett's beautiful house in Bayswater, and 
Geraldine, who was standing near her father, 
came eagerly forward to welcome me. She 
was a pretty and very young girl, with a clear, 
olive complexion and soft, dark eyes. She 
had the innocent and naive manner of a 
schoolgirl. She was delighted to see me, and 
began to talk eagerly. 

"Come and stand by this window, Mr. 
Head. I am so glad you were able to come 
— I want to introduce you to Karl — the Duke 
of Friedeck, I mean ; he will be here in a 
minute or two." As she spoke she dropped 
her voice to a semi-whisper. 

"You know, of course, that we are to be 
married soon ? " she continued. 

u I have heard of the engagement," I 
answered, " and I congratulate you heartily. 
I should like much to meet the Duke. His 
name is, of course, familiar to anyone who 
reads the society papers." 

" He is anxious to make your acquaint- 
ance also," she replied. " I told him you 
were coming, and he said " she paused. 

" But surely the Duke of Friedeck has 
never heard of me before ? " I answered, in 
some surprise. 

" I think he has," she replied. " He was 
quite excited when I spoke of you. I asked 
him if he had met you ; he said 'No/ but that 
you were very well known in scientific circles 
as a clever man. The Duke is a great 
scientist himself, Mr. Head, and I know he 
would like to have a chat with you. I an] 
certain you will be friends," 




Just at that moment the Duke was 
announced. He was a tall and handsome 
man of about five and thirty, with the some- 
what florid complexion, blue eyes, and fair, 
curling hair of the Teuton* He was well 
dressed, and had the indescribable air of good 
breeding which proclaims the gentleman. I 
looked at him with much curiosity, being 
puzzled by an intangible memory of having 
seen his face before — where and how I could 
not tell 

Geraldine tripped up to him and brought 
him to my side. 

"Karl," she cried, "this is my friend 


' KAkl. t Silt; CHI&U, THIS IS MY h>ilfcM> MK. lltAD. 

you," he replied, " I, too, am fond of 
science, and have lost myself more than 
once in its tortuous mazes. I have lately 
started a laboratory of my own, but just 

now other matters " He broke off 

abruptly, and glanced at Geraldine, who 
smiled and blushed. 

Dinner was announced. I happened to 
sit not far from the Duke, and noticed that 
he was a good conversationalist, There was 
scarcely a subject mentioned on which he 
had not something to say ; and on more 
than one occasion his repartee was brilliant, 
and his remarks touched with humour. 

Geraldine, in her 
white dress, with 
her soft, rather sad, 
eyes, her manner 
at once bright, 
sweet, and timid, 
made a contrast to 
this astute -looking 
man of the world. 

I glanced from 
one to the other, 
and an uneasiness 
which 1 could 
scarcely account for 
sprang up within 
me. Notwithstand- 
ing his handsome 
appearance and his 
easy and courteous 
manner, I wondered 
if this man, nearly 
double her age, was 
likely to make the 
pretty English girl 

As dinner pro- 
gressed I observed 
that the Duke often 
took the trouble to 
look at me. I also 
noticed that when- 
ever our eyes met 
he turned away. 

Mr. Head. Don't you remember we talked 
about him this morning?" 

The Duke bowed. 

"1 am glad to make your acquaintance/ 5 
he said to me* "Yours is a name of dis- 
tinction in the world of science." 

*'That can scarcely be the case/' I 
answered. "It is true I am fond of original 
research, but up to the present I have worked 
for my own pleasure alone." 

" Nevertheless, the world has whispered Of 

Digitized by Ct< 

How was it possible 
for him to have heard of me before ? 
Although I was a scientist, my researches 
were unknown to the world. I determined 
to take the first opportunity of solving this 

Soon after eleven o'clock the guests took 
their leave, and I was just about to follow 
their example when De Brett asked me to 
have a pipe with him in his smoking room. 
As we seated ourselves by the fire, he began 
tp talk t^t once of his future sori-Jn-teWt 




" He is a capital 
fellow, is he not, 
Hea i ? " exclaimed 
my host, " I hope 
you have formed a 
favourable opinion 
of him?" 

" I never form an 
opinion quickly," I 
answered, with 
caution. "The Duke 
of Friedeck is cer- 
tainly distinguished 
in appearance 
and " 

" Oh, you are too 
cautious, Head," 
cried De Brett ; 
11 you may take my 
word for it that he 
is all right. This is 
a great catch for my 
little girl Of course, 
she will have plenty 
of money on her 
own account ; but 
the Duke is not 
only of high family, 
he is also rich. He 
comes from Bavaria, 
and his title is abso- 
lutely genuine. Soon 
after the great Duke 
of Marlborough's 

wars, and almost immediately after the Battle 
of Blenheim, the Austrian Government took 
possession of the Dukedom of Friedeck, 
and until lately the family have remained 
in exile. It was only a year ago that the 
present Duke regained his rights and all 
the great estates. He was introduced to 
us by no less a person than Mme. Koluchy 
—All, 1 see you start You have heard of 
her, of course ? " 

"Who has not?" I replied, 

" Do you know her ? " 

" I have met her," I said. It was with 
an effort I could control the ungovernable 
excitement which seized me at the mere 
mention of this woman's name, 

"She dines with us next week," continued 
De Brett; "a wonderful woman, wonderful I 
Her cures are marvellous ; but that is after 
all the least part of her interesting personality. 
She is so fascinating, so wise and good- 
natured, that men and women alike fall at 
her feet. As to Geraldine, she has taken 
an immense fancy to hen" 

" Where did you first meet her ? " I asked. 

Digitized byCOOgH' 


" In Scotland last summer. She was stay^ 
ing with my old friends, the Campbells, for a 
couple of nights, and Friedeck was also one 
of the guests* If she is a friend of yours, 
Head — and I rather expect so from your 
manner — will you dine with us again next 
Thursday in order to meet her? We are 
going down to my place, Forest Manor, in 
Essex, and Madame is to stay with us for 
a couple of nights. We expect quite a large 
party, and can give you a bed — will you 
come ? " 

M I wish I could, but I fear it will be 
impossible/ 1 I replied, "It is true that I 
know Mme. Koluchy, but " — I broke off, 
" Don't ask me any more at the moment, 
De Brett The fact is your news has excited 
me, you will say unreasonably." 

De Brett gazed at me with earnestness. 

"You have fallen under the spell of the 
most beautiful woman in London/ 1 he said ; 
" is that so, Head ? " 

"You may put it that way if you like," 
I said, after a somewhat prolonged pause, 
"but I cannot explain myself to-night. Be 




assured, however, of my deep interest in 
this matter. Pray tell me anything more 
you happen to know with regard to the Duke 
of Friedeck." 

" You certainly are a strange fellow," said 
my host. " You are wearing at the present 
moment an air of quite painful mystery. 
However, here goes. You wish to hear about 
the Duke — I have nothing but good to tell 
of him. He is a rich man, and dabbles now 
and then on the Stock Exchange, but not to 
any serious extent. A week ago he arranged 
for a loan from my bank, depositing as 
security some of the most splendid diamonds 
I have ever seen. They are worth a King's 
ransom, and each stone is historical. He 
brought the diamonds away from the estates 
in Bavaria, and they are to be reset and 
presented to Geraldine just before the 

11 How large was the amount of the loan ? " 
I asked. 

De Brett raised his eyebrows. He 
evidently thought that I was infringing on 
the privileges even of an old friend. 

" Compared with the security, the loan was 
a trifling one," he said, after a pause; "not 
more than ^10,000. Friedeck will pay 
me back next week, as he wishes to release 
the diamonds in order to have them ready to 
present to Geraldine on her wedding-day." 

"And when do you propose that the 
wedding shall take place ?" I continued. 

" Ah, you have me there, Head ; that is 
the painful part. You know what my 
motherless girl is to me — well, the Duke 
insists upon taking her away between now 
and Christmas. They are to spend Christmas 
in the old feudal style, in the old castle in 
Bavaria. Tt is a great wrench parting from 
the little one, but she will be happy. I never 
met a man I took more warmly to than Karl 
Duke of Friedeck. You can see for yourself 
that the child is devoted to him." 

" I can," I said. " I will wish you good- 
night now, De Brett. Be assured once again 
of my warm interest in all that concerns you 
and Geraldine." 

I shook hands with my host, and a 
moment later found myself in the street. I 
called a hansom, and desired the man to 
drive straight to Dufrayer's flat in Shaftesbury 
Avenue. He had just come in, and wel- 
comed me eagerly. 

" By all that's fortunate, Head ! " he 
exclaimed. "I was just on my way to see 

"Then we have well met," I answered. 
"Dufrayer, I have come here on a most 

important matter. But first of all tell me, 
have you ever heard of the Duke of 
Friedeck ? " 

" The Duke of Friedeck ! " cried Dufrayer. 
"Why, it was on that very subject I 
wished to see you. You have, of course, 
observed the announcement of his approach- 
ing marriage in the society papers? " 

" I have," I replied. " He is engaged to 
Geraldine de Brett. I have been dining at 
De Brett's house to-night, and met the Duke 
at dinner. De Brett has been telling me all 
about him. Dufrayer, I have learned to, my 
consternation that the man was introduced 
to the De Bretts by Mme. Koluchy. That 
fact is quite enough to rouse my suspicions, 
but I see you have something to communi- 
cate on your own account. What is it ? " 

"Sit down, Head. You know, of course, 
that I am having Madame watched. The 
Duke of Friedeck is beyond. doubt one of 
her satellites, and I am strongly inclined to 
think that this is a new plot brewing." 

"Just my own opinion," I replied; "but 
tell me what you know." 

"I was coming to see you, for I hoped 
that you might remember the Duke's name 
from your old association with the Brother- 

" I do not recall it, but names mean 
nothing. The man is handsome, and has 
the manners of a gentleman. When he 
entered De Brett's drawing-room I thought 
for a moment that I must have met him 
before, but that idea quickly vanished. 
Nevertheless, he contrived to arouse my 
suspicions by more than one stealthy glance 
which he favoured me with, even before 
his connection with Mme. Koluchy was 
mentioned. I regard him now as a highly 
suspicious individual, and I fully believe he 
is playing some game a little deeper than 

" Beyond doubt, the man has plenty of 
money, and moves in good circles," said 
Dufrayer. " He is known, however, to live 
a pretty fast life. He shoots at Hurlingham, 
drives his own drag, rents a moor in Scot- 
land, and has a suite at the Hotel Cecil; but 
nothing can be discovered against him ex- 
cept that he is constantly seen in Madame's 

"And that is quite enough," I replied. 
" Friedeck is one of Madame's satellites. 
Without doubt, there is mischief ahead." 

"I agree with you," said Dufrayer; "I 
think it more than possible that this 
plausible Duke is simply another serpent 
springing from the hwi of this modern 

by L^OOgle 

U 1 1 I U I I I _' 




Medusa. In that case, I)e Brett ought to 
be warned." 

I rose uneasily, 

"I would have warned him to-night," I 
answered, " but I want more evidence. How 
are we to get it ? " 

" Tyler's agents arc doing their best, and 
Madame is closely watched," 

" YeSj but that woman could deceive the 
Evil One himself," I said, bitterly, 

"That is true," answered Dufrayer, "and 
to show our hand too soon might be fatal. 
We cannot move in this matter until we have 
got more circumstantial evidence. How we 
are to set to work is the puzzle ! " 

"Well," I said, "I shall move Heaven 
and earth in this matter. I have known 
Geraldine since she was a child. She is a 
sweet, innocent, motherless girl The great 
risk to her happiness thnt may now be impend- 
ing is too serious to contemplate quietly. If 1 
had time I should go to Bavaria in order 
to find out if the Duke's story is true ; but in 
any case, it might be well to send one 
of Tyler's agents to 
look up the sup- r 
posed estates." 

"I will do so/' 
said Dufrayer. 

"And in the 
meantime I shall 
watch," I said, "and 
if an opportunity 
occurs t believe mo 
l)e Brett shall have 
his warning." 

As I spoke I 
bade my friend 
good-night and re- 
turned to my own 

The next few 
days were spent in 
anxious thought, 
but no immediate 
action seemed pos- 
sible. Clue after 
clue still arose, but 
only to vanish into 
nothing. I seldom 
now went into 
society without hear- 
ing Mine. Koluchy's 
name, and all the 
accounts of her 
were favourable. 
She was the sort of 
woman to charm the 
eye and fire the 

imagination. Her personal attractions were 
some of her strongest potentialities! 

On the following Tuesday, as I was walk- 
ing down Oxford Street, a brougham drew 
up suddenly at the pavement, the window 
was lowered, and a girlish fare looked eagerly 
out It was Geraldine de Brett. 

a Mr, Head," she cried, eagerly, " you are 
the very man I want. Come here, I have 
something to say." I approached her at 
once. " We are dreadfully disappointed at 
your refusing to come to us on Thursday," 
she said, (1 We are making up such a de- 
lightful party. My father and I are going 
down to Forest Manor for a fortnight; in 
order to have plenty of room to entertain 
our friends. This is a personal matter with me. 
I ask you to come to us as a personal favour. 
Will you refuse ? " 

I looked full into the sparkling and lovely 
eyes of the young girl. The colour came 
and went in her cheeks ; she laid one of her 
small hands for a moment on mine, 

" 1 must tell you everything," she con* 






tinued, eagerly. " Of course I want you, but 
I am not the only one. Mme. Koluchy — 
ah, you have heard of her ? " 

" Who has not ? " was my cautious reply. 

11 Yes, but Mr. Head, you are concealing 
something. Madame is one of your very 
greatest friends ; she has told me so. It is 
only an hour since I left her. She is most 
anxious to meet you on Thursday at our 
house. I promised you should be there — 
wasn't it rash of me ? But I made up my 
mind that I would insist on your coming. 
Now, you won't allow me to break my word, 
will you ? " 

" Did Mme. Koluchy really say that she 
wished to see me?" I asked. As I put the 
question I felt my face turning pale. I looked 
again full at Miss l)e Brett. It was evident 
that she misinterpreted my emotion. Well, 
that mattered nothing. I quickly made up 
my mind. 

"I had an engagement for Thursday," I 
said, " but your word is law — I cannot refuse 

Geraldine laughed. 

" Madame doubted my power to bring you, 
but I knew you would come, if I could really 
see you." 

" Suppose we had not met in this chance 
sort of way ? " 

" I was going to your house. I had no 
intention of leaving a stone unturned. With- 
out you my party will not be complete. Yes, 
you will come, and it is all right. You 
will hear from father to-morrow. He very 
often drives out to Forest Manor from the 
bank, and, if you can, come with him, but 
you will get all particulars straight from him. 
Thank you a thousand times — you have made 
me a happy girl." 

She waved her hand to me in farewell, 
and the brougham rolled out of sight. 

My blood was coursing quickly through 
my veins and my mind was made up. 
Madame would not wish me to meet her at 
De Brett's house without a strong reason. 
With her usual astuteness she was using 
Geraldine de Brett as her tool in more senses 
than one. I must not delay another moment 
in warning the banker. 

Calling a hansom, I desired the man to 
drive me straight to De Brett's bank in the 
City, and soon after twelve o'clock I found 
myself in Gracechurch Street In a few 
moments the hansom turned down a narrow 
lane leading into St. Mark's Court Here I 
paid my driver, and a moment later found 
myself in the open space in front of the bank. 
This was a cul-de-sac, but there was another 
Digitized by LiOOQle 

lane leading into it also from Gracechurch 
Street running parallel to the one I had come 
down, and separated from it by a narrow row of 
buildings, which came to an abrupt termina- 
tion about fifty feet from the houses forming 
the further side of the court 

Well as I knew De Brett, I had not been 
at the old bank for some years, and looked 
around me now eagerly until my eye fell 
upon the large brass plate bearing the well- 
known name. I entered the office, and going 
up to the counter asked if Mr. De Brett were 
in. The clerk replied in the affirmative, and 
giving him my card he passed through a door 
into an inner room. The next moment he 
re-appeared and requested me to step inside, 
where I found De Brett seated at a writing- 
table, upon which a circle of light fell from a 
shaded incandescent 

"Welcome, Head," he exclaimed, rising 
and coming forward with his usual heartiness 
of manner. "To what am I indebted for 
this visit ? Sit down. I am delighted to see 
you. By the way, Geraldine tells me " 

" I have just met your daughter," I inter- 
rupted, " and it is principally on account of 
that meeting that I have come here to trouble 
you during business hours." 

" Oh, I can spare you ten minutes," he 
answered, looking around him as he spoke. 
"The fact is this. Head, Geraldine is anxious 
that you should join our party at Forest 
Manor, and I wish you would re-consider your 
determination. The Duke has taken a fancy 
to you, and as you happen to know Mme. 
Koluchy, it would be a pleasure to us all if 
you would give us the benefit of your society 
for a night or two." 

"I have promised Geraldine to come," I 
answered, gravely ; " but, De Brett, you must 
pardon me. I have intruded on you in your 
business hours to speak on a most delicate 
private matter. However you may receive 
what I have to say, I must ask you to hear it 
in confidence, and with that good feeling that 
has prompted me to come to you." 

" My dear Head, what do you mean ? Pray 
explain yourself." 

" I am uneasy," I continued, " very uneasy. 
I am also in a peculiar position, and cannot 
disclose the reason of my fears. You are 
pleased with the match which Geraldine is 
about to make. Now, I have reasons for 
doubting the Duke of Friedeck, reasons 
which I cannot at present disclose, but 
I am bound — yes, bound, De Brett, in 
your girl's interests — to warn you as to your 
dealings with him." 

De Brett looked at rne through his gol<J- 




rimmed spectacles with a blank expression of 

u If it were any other man who spoke to 
me in this strain/ 1 he said, at last, " I believe 
I should show him the door. Are you aware, 
Head, that this is a most serious allegation? 
You must give me your reasons for what you 
say, JJ 

■* I cannot do so at the present moment 
I can only repeat that they exist, and that 
they are grave. All I ask of you is to use 
double caution, to find out all you can about 
the man's antecedents " 

De Brett interrupted me, rising hastily from 
his seat 

"In our dealings one with the other," 
he said,, "this is the first time in which you 
have shown bad taste. I shall see the Duke 
this afternoon, and shall be bound to acquaint 
him, in his and my own interests, with your 

" I hope you won't do so. Remember, my 
warning is given in confidence." 

" It is not fair to give a man such a warn- 
ing, and then to give him no reason 
for it, 31 retorted the banker 

"I will give you my reasons." 


" On Thursday night. Will you 
regard my confidence as sacred until 

M You have disturbed me consider 
ably, but 1 will do so, I should 
be sorry to alarm Geraldine 
unnecessarily, I am quite cer- 
tain you are mistaken. You 
never saw the Duke until you 
met him at my house ? " 

"That is true, but I cannot 
say anything further now* I 
will explain my reasons fully on 
Thursday night." 

De Brett rose from his seat. 
He bade me good-bye, hut not 
with his customary friendliness. 
I went away, to pass the inter- 
vening hours between then and 
Thursday in much anxiety. 

After grave thought I re- 
sol ved, if I discovered nothing 
fresh with regard to Friedeck, 
to acquaint De Brett with what 
I knew of Mme. Koluchy. If 
Geraldine married the Duke, 
she should at least do so with 
her father's eyes opened, I 
little guessed, however, when I 
made these plans, what circum- 
stances were about tg bring forth. 

Vol „._**, 

On the following Thursday morning I 
awoke from a disturbed sleep to find London 
enveloped in one of the thickest fogs that had 
been known for some years. The limit of 
my vision scarcely extended beyond the area 
railings round which the soot-laden mist 
clung in a breathless calm. 

In the course of the morning I received a 
telegram from De Brett 

"Meet me at the bank not later than a 
quarter past four," were the few words which 
it contained. 

Soon after three o'clock I started for my 
destination, avoiding omnibuses ami pre- 
ferring to walk the greater part of the way, 
I arrived at St Mark's Court at the time 
named, and was just approaching the bank 
when two men knocked violently against me 
in the thick fog. One of them apologized, 
but before I could make any reply vanished 
into the surrounding gloom. 1 had caught a 
glimpse of his features, however. It was 
the Duke of Friedeck* Across the narrow 
court, at the opposite side from the bank, I 





saw a stream of light from an open door 
making a blurred gleam in the surrounding 
darkness. I crossed the court to see what 
this indicated. I then discovered that the 
light came from an old-fashioned eating- 
house, something in the style of the 
celebrated "Cock" in Fleet Street As I 
stood in the shadow, the two men who 
had knocked against me entered the eating- 

I returned now to the bank. As soon as I 
arrived the manager came up to me. 

" Mr. De Brett was called out about half 
an hour ago," he said, " but he has asked you 
to wait for him here, Mr. Head. He expects 
to be back not later than half-past four." 

I seated myself accordingly, a clerk 
brought me the Times, and I drew up 
my chair in front of a bright fire. Now and 
then someone made a desultory remark 
about the fog, which was thickening in 
intensity each moment 

The time flew by ; the bank had, of course, 
closed at four o'clock, but the clerks were 
busy finishing accounts and putting the place 
in order for the night The different tills 
were emptied of their contents, and the 
money was taken down to the great vaults 
where the different safes were kept The 
hands of the clock over the mantelpiece 
pointed to a quarter to five, when the sound 
of wheels was heard distinctly outside, and 
the next moment I saw a splendidly equipped 
brougham and pair draw up outside the bank. 
A footman dismounted and handed the com- 
missionaire a note. This was brought into 
the office. It was for me ; a clerk gave it to 
me. I glanced at the writing, and saw that 
the letter was from De Brett I tore open 
the envelope, and read as follows : — 

" Dear Head,— I have been unexpectedly 
detained at Lynn's bank, in Broad Street, so 
have sent the brougham for you. Will you 
come on at once and pick me up at Lynn's? 
Please ask Derbyshire, the manager, for the 
keys of the small safe. He will give them 
to you after he has locked up the strong- 
room. — Yours, Harry de Brett." 

I turned to the manager. He was an 
elderly man, with grizzled hair and an 
anxious expression of face. 

" Mr. De Brett wants me to bring him the 
keys of the small j-afe," I said. I saw the 
man raise his brows in surpiise. 

"That is an unusual request," he answered; 
" but, of course, it must be as Mr. De Brett 
wishes As a rule, either Mr. Frome or I 
keep the keys, as Mr. De Brett never cares 
to be troubled with them." 

by L^OOgle 

" Here is his letter," I replied, handing it 
to the manager. He read it, retaining it in 
his hand. 

" Do you object to my keeping this, Mr. 
Head? The request is so unusual, that I 
should like to have this note as my authority." 

"Certainly," I replied. 

" Very well, sir ; I shall have to detain you 
for a few moments, as we have not quite 
cleared the tills. The keys of all the other 
safes are kept in the small one. I will bring 
you the keys of the small safe in a moment 
or two." 

The clerks bustled about, the work of the 
night was quickly accomplished, and shortly 
after five o'clock I was seated in De Brett's 
luxurious brougham^ with the keys of the 
small safe in my pocket 

We went along very slowly, as the fog 
seemed to grow thicker each moment. 
Suddenly as the coachman piloted his way 
in the direction of Broad Street I began to 
feel a peculiar sensation. My head was 
giddy, an unusual weakness trembled through 
my nerves, and for the first time I noticed 
that the brougham was full of a faint, sweet 
odour. Doubtless the smell of the fog had 
prevented my observing this at first. The 
sensation of faintness grew worse, and I now 
made an effort to attract the coachman's 
attention. This I altogether failed to do, 
and becoming seriously alarmed I tried to 
open the door, but it resisted all my efforts, 
as also did the windows, which were securely 
fixed. The horrible feeling that I was the 
victim of some dastardly plot came over me 
with force. I shouted and struggled to 
attract attention, and finally tried to break the 
windows. All in vain — the sense of giddi- 
ness grew worse, everything seemed to whirl 
before my mental vision — the bank, De Brett, 
the keys of the safe which I had in my 
pocket, the thought of Geraldine and her 
danger, were mixed up in a hideous 
phantasmagoria. The next moment I had 
lost consciousness. 

When I came to myself I found that I 
was lying on a piece of waste ground in the 
neighbourhood of Putney. For one or two 
moments I could not in the least recall what 
had happened. Then my memory came 
back with a quick flash. 

" The Duke of Friedeck ! The bank ! 

Geraldine ! " I said to myself. I sprang to 

my fee* and began a hasty examination of 

my pockets. Yes, my worst conjectures 

were confirmed, for the keys of the small safe 

were gone ! 

My watch and money were intact: the 
Original fro rn 




keys alone were stolen. I stood still Tor a 
moment considering ■ then the need of im- 
mediate action came over me, and I made 
my way at once to the nearest railway station. 
I found to my relief that it was only a little 
past eleven o'clock. Beyond doubt, I had 
recovered consciousness much sooner than 
the villains who had planned this terrible plot 

I took the next train to town, and on my 
way up resolved on my line of action. To 
warn De Brett was impracticable, for the 
simple reason that 
he was out of town 
— to waste time 
visiting Dufrayer 
was also not to be 
thought of. With- 
out the least doubt, 
the ba#k was in 
imminent danger, 
and I must not lose 
an unnecessary 
moment in getting 
to St Mark's Court, 

As I thought 
over matters I felt 
more and more 
certain that the 
eating-house facing 
the bank was a 
rendezvous for 
Madame 's agents. I 
hastily resolved, 
therefore, to dis- 
guise myself and 
go there. Once I 
had belonged to the 
infamous Brother- 
hood. I knew their 
password. By this 
means, if my sus- 
picions were true, I 
could doubtless 
gain admission— as 
for the rest, I must 
leave it to chance. 

As soon as I reached town I drove off at 
once to a theatrical agent, whose acquaint- 
ance I had already made. He remembered 
me, and I explained enough of the situation 
to induce him to render me assistance. In a 
very short time I was metamorphozed. By 
a few judicious touches twenty years were 
added to my age, a wig of dark hair com- 
pletely covered my own, my complexion was 
dyed to a dark olive, and in a thick travelling 
cloak, with a high fur collar, I scarcely knew 
myself. My final act was to slip a loaded 

by Google 

revolver into my pocket, and then, feeling that 
I was prepared for the worst, I hurried forth. 
It was now between twelve and one in the 
morning* and the fog was denser than ever 
Few men know London better than I do, 
but once or twice in that perilous journey I 
lost my way. At last, however, I found 
myself in St. Mark's Court. I was now 
breathing with difficulty ; the fog was piercing 
my lungs and hurting my throat, my eyes 
watered, When I got into the court 
I heard the steady tramp of T the police- 
man whose duty it 
was to guard the 
place at night Tak- 
ing no p notice of 
him, I went across 
the court in the 
direction of the 
eating-house. The 
light within still 
burned, but dimly. 
There was a blurr 
visible, nothing 
more. This came 
through one of the 
windows, for the 
door was shut I 
tapped at the door 
A man came imme- 
diately and opened 
it. He asked me 
what my business 
was. I repeated the 
password of the 
society, A change 
came over his face, 
My conjectures 
were verified — I 
was instantly ad- 

lt Are you expect- 
ing to see a friend 
here to-night?" said 
the man. M It is 
rather late, and we 
are just closing," 
As he uttered the words, suddenly, like a 
flash of lightning, an old memory returned 
to me, I have said that when I first saw the 
Duke at De Brett's house, I was puzzled by 
an intangible likeness. Now I knew who the 
man really was. In the old days in Naples, 
an English boy of the name of Drake was 
often seen in Madam e's salons. Drake and 
the Duke of Friedeck were one and the 

" I have come here to see Mr, Drake," I 
Slid, stoutly. 

Original from 





The man nodded My chance shot had 
found its billet 

"Mr. Drake is upstairs," he said. "Will 
you find your own way up, or shall I announce 

" I will find my own way," I said u He is 
in the n 

"Room to the front — third floor," answered 
the man. 

He returned to the dining saloon, and I 
heard the swing-door close hehmd him. 
Without a moment's hesitation I ascended 
the stairs. The stairs and passage were 
in complete darkness. I went up, passed 
the first and second stories, and on to the 
third. As I approached the landing of 
the third story I saw an open door and 
a gleam of light in a small room which 
faced the court. The light was caused 
by a lamp which stood on a deal table, 
the wick of which was turned down very 
low. Except the lamp and table there was 
no other furniture in the room. I went In 
and looked around me. The Duke was 
not present I was 
just considering 
what my next step 
should be, when I 
heard voices and 
several steps ascend- 
ing the stairs. I 
saw an empty cup- 
board, the door of 
which stood ajar. 
I made for it, and 
closed the dour 
softly behind me. 
As the men ap- 
proached, I slipped 
the revolver from 
my pocket and held 
it in my hand. It 
was probable that 
Friedeek had been 
told of my arrival 
If so, he would 
search for me, and 
in all probability 
look in the cup- 
board. Three or 
four men at least 
were coming up the 
stairs, and I knew 
that my life was 
scarcely worth a 
moment's purchase. 
I had a wild feeling 
of regret that I had 
not summoned the 


by Google 

policeman in the court to my aid, and then the 
men entered the room. When they did so, 
I breathed a sigh of relief. They talked to 
one another as if I did not exist Evidently 
the waiter downstairs had thought that my 
knowledge of the password was all-sufficient, 
and had not troubled himself to mention my 
appearance on the scene: 

One of the men went up to the lamp, 
turned it on to a full blaze, and then placed 
it in the window. 

" This will be sufficient for our purpose," 
he said, with a laugh, " otherwise, with the 
fo^ as thick as it is now, the bolt might miss 
its mirk/' 

"The thicker the fog the safer," said 
another voice, which I recognised as that of 
the Duke. " I am quite ready, gentlemen, 
if you are." 

" All right," said the man w T ho had first 
spoken, " I will go across to Bell's house 
and fix the rope from the bar outside the 
window. As the bob of the pendulum you 
will swing true, Drake, no fear of that. You 

will swing straight to 
the balcony, as sure 
as mathematics. 
Have you anything 
else to ask ? " 

" No," answered 
Friedeek, " I am 
ready. Get your part 
of the work through 
as quickly as you 
can ; you cannot fail 
to see this window 
with the bright 
light in it I will 
have the lower sash 
open, and be ready 
to receive the bolt 
from the crossbow 
with the light string 

"All right," an- 
swered his con- 
federate ; " when 
the bolt reaches 
you, pull in as hard 
as you can, for the 
rope will be fastened 
to the ligtit string. 
The crossbar is 
here. You have 
only to attach it 
to the rope and 
swing across, 
Well, all right, I'm 
Original from 




The man whose mission it was to send the 
bolt into the open window now left the room, 
and I heard his footsteps going softly down- 
stairs. I opened the cupboard door about 
half an inch, and was able to watch the 
proceedings of the other three men who 
remained on the scene, The window was 
softly opened. They spoke in whispers. I 
could judge by their attitudes that 
all three were in the highest state 
of nervous excitement 

Presently a low cry of satisfaction 
from Friedeck reached my ears, and 
I saw that something had entered 
the window* The next moment he 
and his confederates were pulling in 
a silken string, to which a thick 
scaffolding rope was attached, I 
then saw the Duke remove his coat. 
A wooden crossbar was securely 
fastened to the end of the stout 
rope, the rope was held outside the 
window by the two confederates, and 
the Duke got upon the window-sill, 
slipped his legs over the crossbar, 
and the next instant had disappeared 
into space. 

Where he had gone — what he 
was doing, were mysteries yet to be 
solved. The men remained for a 
moment longer beside the window, 
then they softly closed the sash, and 
putting out the lamp, left the room, 
I heard their steps descending the 
stairs, the sounds died away into 
utter stillness, I listened intently, 
and then, softly leaving the cup- 
board, approached the window. In 
the intense darkness, caused by the 
fog, I could not see a yard in front 
of me, De Brett's bank was in 
danger—the Duke of Friedeck and 
his accomplices were burglars ; but 
what the crossbow, the rope s the 
bolt, the crossbar of wood, and the 
sudden disappearance of the Duke 
himself through the open window 
portended I could not fathom- My duty, 
however, was clear, I must immediately 
give the alarm to the policeman in the court, 
whose tramp I even now heard coming up to 
me through the fog, 

I waited for a few moments longer, and 
then determined to make my exit, I ran 
downstairs, treading as softly as I could, 1 
had just reached the little hall and put 
hand on the latch of the door, when I 

II Who is there ? tt said a voice 


I replied, glibly, that I was going in search 
of Drake. 

" You cannot see him, he is engaged," 
said the same voice, and now a man came 
forward- He held a dark lantern in his hand 
and suddenly threw its bull's-eye full on my 
face. Perhaps be saw through my disguise ; 
anyhow, he must have observed that my face 





by Google 


was unfamiliar to him. The expression on 
his own changed to one of alarm. He 
suddenly made a low and peculiar whistle, 
and two or three other men entered the hall 
The first man said something, the words 
of which I could not catch, and all four 
made a rush for me. But the door was 
on the latch, I burst it open, and escaped 
into the court. The thick fog favoured 
me, and I hoped that I had escaped 
the gang, when a heavy blow on the back 
of my head rendered me, for the second 
Original from 




time within that ominous twenty-four hours, 

When I awoke I found myself in the ward 
of a London hospital, and the kind lace of a 
house-surgeon was bending over me. 

" Ah ! you'll do," I heard him say ; "you 
are coming to nicely. You had a nasty blow 
on your head, though. Don't talk just at 
present; you'll be all right in a couple of 

I lay still, feeling bewildered. Figures 
were moving about the room, and the day- 
light was streaming in at the windows. I 
saw a nurse come up and look at me. She 
bent down. 

" You feel better ? You are not suffering ? " 
she said. 

" I am not," I replied ; " but how did I 
get here ? What has happened ? " 

" A policeman heard you cry and picked 
you up unconscious in a place called St 
Mark's Court. Someone gave you a bad 
blow on your head — it is a wonder your skull 
was not cracked, but you are better. Have 
you a message to give to anyone ? " 

" I must get up immediately," I said ; " I 
have not a moment to lose. Something 
dreadful has happened, and I must see to it. 
I must leave the hospital at once." 

"Not without the surgeon's permission," 
said the nurse. " Have you any friend you 
would like lo be sent to you ? " 

I mentioned Dufrayer's name. The nurse 
said she would dispatch a messenger im- 
mediately to his house and ask him to come 
to me. 

I waited with what patience I could. The 
severe blow had fortunately only stunned me. 
I was not seriously hurt, and all the events 
of the preceding night, previous to the 
blow, presented themselves clearly before 
my memory. 

In a little over an hour Dufrayer arrived. 
His eyes were blazing with excitement. He 
came up to me full of consternation. 

" What has happened, Head?" he asked. 

" Oh, I am all right ; don't bother about 
me," I said. " But listen, Dufrayer, I must 
go to St. Mark's Court immediately — there is 

" St. Mark's Court ! Are you mad ? 
Have you heard anything ? " 

"Heard what?" I asked. 

"They have done it, that's all," cried 

" What ? " I exclaimed. 

" Well, there's the very deuce to pay in the 
City this morning. De Brett's bank was 
broken into last night, the night watchman 

by L^OOgle 

seriously injured, and securities and cash to 
the tune of one hundred thousand pounds 
taken from the strong-room, and the man has 
got clean away. Your messenger from here 
followed me to the bank. Tyler is there and 
De Brett. The daring and ingenuity of the 
robbery are unparalleled." 

" I can throw light on this matter," I said. 
" Get the surgeon to give me leave to go, 
Dufrayer. There is not a moment to lose if 
we are to catch the scoundrel. I must 
accompany you to the bank." 

" Well, you seem all right, old chap, and 
if you have anything to say " 

"I have," I cried, impatiently. "See the 
surgeon. I must get off immediately." 

Dufrayer did what I requested him. The 
surgeon shook his head over what he called 
my imprudence, but said he could not detain 
me against my will. Dufrayer and I stepped 
into a hansom, and on my way to the bank 
I repeated my strange adventures of the 
previous night. 

" Did ever anyone hear of another man 
doing such a foolhardy thing?" cried 
Dufrayer. "What possessed you to enter 
that house alone beats my comprehension." 

"Never mind that now," I replied. 
" Remember, I knew the Brotherhood ; my 
one chance consisted in going alone. Thank 
goodness, the fog has risen." 

A light breeze was blowing over the City, 
and as we entered St. Mark's Court a ray of 
sunshine cast a watery gleam over the old, 
smoke-begrimed buildings. We entered the 
bank and found De Brett, his manager, two 
police inspectors, and Tyler's agent awaiting 

De Brett exclaimed, when he caught sight 
of me:— 

" Ah, Head, here's a pretty business ! I'm 
a ruined man. The bank cannot stand a 
blow of this kind." 

" Courage," I replied ; " we may be able 
to put things right yet. I have a story to 
tell. Mr. Derbyshire, you have doubtless 
kept the note which Mr. De Brett wrote to 
me last night? " 

" The note I wrote to you ! " cried 
De Brett. " What do you mean, Head ? " 

"Will you produce the note?" I said to 
the manager. 

The man brought it and put it into his 
chiefs hand. De Brett read it with increas- 
ing amazement. 

"But I never put pen to paper on such 

a fool's errand," he cried. "Why, I never 

take the keys of the small safe. Derbyshire 

and Frome have charge of them. Head, 

Original from 




this note is a forgery. What in the name of 
Heaven does it mean ? w 

" It meant for me a brougham which was 
a death trap," I replied; "and it also meant 
the most dastardly scheme to rob you, and 
perhaps murder me 3 which has ever been 
conceived. But listen, let me tell my story," 

I did $0, amidst the breathless silence 
of the spectators, 

"And now/' I continued, "the best thing 
we can do, gentlemen, h to go across to 
the house from which the bolt was shot. 
It is possible that we may see something 
in that upper room which w r ill explain the 

the question. The annihilation of gravity is 
a new departure in the burglar's nrt. ?J 

We had now reached the built ling which 
faced the court, and which was between the 
bank and the eating-house. It was com- 
posed entirely of offices — we went up at 
once to the top floor. The door of the 
room which faced the court was locked. 
The inspector took a step back, and, flinging 
his shoulders against it t it flew open. The 
room was bare and unoccupied, but, as we 
entered, Inspector Brown uttered a cry. 

" Here is confirmation of your story, Mr. 
Head." As he spoke he lifted up a coil of 


manner in which the burglar entered the 
bank 1 ' 

"1 am at your service, Mr* Head," said 
Inspector Brown, in a cheerful tone; "a 
mystery of this sort is quite to my mind. 
All the same, sir," he continued, as he and I 
took the lead of the little procession which 
crossed St. Marks Court, " I cannot imagine 
how any man got into that window of 
the bank on the second floor without 
wings. There is a constable on patrol in 
the court all night, so ladders are out of 

strong rope which lay in a corner of the 
room* Attached to it was a crossbar of 
wood. A strong iron bar with a hook at 
one end and a crossbow also lay in the 
neighbourhood of the rope. 

u The thing is as clear as daylight," I ex- 
claimed. 4i I could not put two and two 
together last night, for the fog fairly bewildered 
me, but now I see the whole scheme. Let 
me explain. This rope was sent by means of 
the crossbow across to the window in the 
eating-housg r jq^ ia |.lfp ;:i |3j9lt of the crossbow 




was attached a silken cord, to which again the 
rope was fastened. The man who swung 
himself out of the window by the rope last 
night acted as the bob of the pendulum, and 
so reached the window of the bank. Swing 
ing through the eating-house window and 
rising to the balcony outside the bank window, 
he then doubtless seized the handle of the 
outside frame and, 
settling on the balcony, 
cut out the glass with 
a diamond." 

"We will go at once 
and see the room in 
the eating-house," said 
the inspector. 

We did so, and 
found to our amaze- 
ment that the door of 
the eating-house was 
locked and the place 
empty. After some 
slight difficulty we got 
the door hurst open 
and went upstairs. 
Here we found the 
final confirmation of 
my words— the string 
which had been at^ 
tached to the rope 
and cut fro m i t 
before the Duke made 

" But who did it ? 


A.— li' itvtotc fmn which iivn bar h-Adintf the mp* vat Jtx&j. 
ti, — Windi>»/rvm which tht Dnks turnup ntJiow th* court. 
C - WiwUunm ircund Jtmr rrfthe Hank, Tht ft tiki alighted 
on the fedo* Ufow ami rtntQwi tkt pclttc. 

his aerial flight 
cried De Brett " We 
must secure the scoundrel without a moment's 
delay, for amongst other things he has stolen 
the Duke of Friedeck's priceless securities, 
the diamonds, By the way," continued the 
banker, "where is the Duke? I sent him a 
telegram, and expected him here before now*" 

An ominous silence fell upon everyone. 
De Brett's face grew white ; he looked at me. 

" For God's sake, speak," he cried. " Have 
you anything else to confide ? " 

" You must be prepared for bad news, De 
Brett," I said, I went up and laid my hand 
on my old friend's shoulder. "Thank God, I 

was in time. Your little girl is saved from the 
most awful fate which could overtake any 
woman. The man who committed the burglary 
was known to you as the Duke of FriedecL" 
De Brett stepped hack ; his face changed 
from white to purple. 

"Then that accounts for the telegrams," 
he said. "I received two yesterday, one 
from you telling me to 
expect you by a late 
train at Forest Manor 
—the other from that 
scoundrel In it he 
said that he was un- 
expectedly detained in 
town. Doubtless both 
telegrams w T ere sent by 
the same man*" 

"Without doubt," I 
replied, "The whole 
thing was carefully 
planned, and not a 
stone left unturned to 
secure the success of 
this most dastardly 
scheme But, De Brett, 
I have one thing more 
to say. There is no 
Duke of Fried eck : it 
was an assumed name, 
I am prepared to 
real identity when the 

swear to the man's 
police have secured him." 

The remainder of this story can be told in 
a few words, The ruffian who had posed as 
the Duke of Friedeek was captured a few 
days later, but the greater part of the securities 
and money which he had stolen were never 
recovered. Doubtless Mine. Koluchy had 
them in her possession. The man passed 
through his trial and received his sentence, 
but that has nothing to do with the story. 

By the energetic aid of his many friends 
De Brett escaped ruin, and his bank still 
exists and prospers. He is a sadder and a 
wiser man. 

by Google 

Original from 

Glimpses of N attire. 

By Grant Allen. 

HE pond in the valley is a 
world by itself. So far as its 
inhabitants are concerned, in- 
deed, it is the whole of the 
world. For a pond without 
an outlet is like an oceanic 
island ; it is a system, a microcosm, a tiny 
society apart, shut off by impassable barriers 
from all else around it. As the sea severs 
Fiji or St. Helena from the great land-surface 
of the continents, so, and just as truly, the 
fields about this pond sever it from all other 
inhabited waters. The snails and roach and 
beetles that dwell in it know of no other 
world ; to them, the pond is all ; the shore 
that bounds it is the world's end ; their own 
little patch of stagnant water is the universe. 

A pond which empties itself into a river by 
means of a stream or brook is not quite so 
isolated. It has points of contact with the 
outer earth : it resembles rather a peninsula 
than an island : it is the analogue of Spain or 
Greece, not of Hawaii or Madeira. And you 
will see how important this distinction is if 
you remember that trout and stickleback and 
stone-loach and fresh- water mussels can ascend 
the river into the brook, and pass by the 
brook into the pond, which has thus a direct 
line of communication with all waters else- 
where, including even the great oceans. But 
the pond without an outlet cannot thus be 
peopled. Whatever inhabitants it possesses 
have come to it much more by pure chance. 
They are not able to walk overland from one 
pond to another ; they must be brought there 
somehow, by insignificant accidents. Re- 
garded in this light, the original peopling of 
every pond in England is a problem in itself 
— a problem analogous in its own petty way 
to the problem of the peopling of oceanic 

That great and accomplished and ingenious 
naturalist, Mr. Alfred Russel Wallace, working 
in part upon lines long since laid down by 
Darwin, has shown us in detail how oceanic 
islands have in each case come to be peopled. 
He has shown us how they never contain any 
large indigenous land animals belonging to 
the great group of mammals— any deer or 
elephants or pigs or horses ; because mam- 
mals, being born alive, cannot, of course, be 
transported in the egg, and because the adult 
beasts could seldom be carried across great 
stretches of ocean by accident without perish- 
ing on the way of cold, hunger, or drowning. 
Vol xv.— 33. 

Digitized by \j009 Ic 

One can hardly imagine an antelope or a 
buffalo conveyed safely over sea by natural 
causes from Africa g to the Cape Verdes, or 
from America to the Bermudas. As a matter 
of fact, therefore, the natural population of 
oceanic islands (for I need hardly say I set 
aside mere human agencies) consists almost 
entirely of birds blown across from the 
nearest continent, and their descendants ; of 
reptiles, whose small eggs can be transported 
in logs of wood or broken trees by ocean 
currents; of snails and insects, whose still 
tinier spawn can be conveyed for long 
distances by a thousand chances ; and of 
such trees, herbs, or ferns as have very light 
seeds or spores, easily whirled by storms 
(like thistledown), or else nuts or hard fruits 
which may be wafted by sea-streams without 
damage to the embryo. For the most part, 
also, the plants and animals of oceanic islands 
resemble more or less closely (with locally 
induced differences) those of the nearest 
continent, or those of the land from which 
the prevailing winds blow towards them, or 
those of the country whence currents run 
most direct to the particular island. They 
are waifs and strays, stranded there by 
accident, and often giving rise in process of 
time to special local varieties or species. 

Now, it is much the same with isolated 
ponds. They acquire their first inhabitants 
by a series of small accidents. Perhaps 
some water-bird from a neighbouring lake or 
river alights on the sticky mud of the bank, 
and brings casually on his webbed feet a few 
clinging eggs of dace or chub, a few frag- 
ments of the spawn of pond-snails or water- 
beetles. Paddling about on the brink, he 
rubs these off by mere chance on the mud, 
where they hatch in time into the first 
colonists of the new water-world. Perhaps, 
again, a heron drops a half-eaten fish into the 
water— a fish which is dead itself, but has 
adhering to its scales or gills a few small 
fresh-water crustaceans and mollusks. Perhaps 
a flood brings a minnow or two and a weed 
or two from a neighbouring stream ; perhaps 
a wandering frog trails a seed on his feet 
from one pool to another. By a series of 
such accidents, each trivial in itself, an 
isolated pond acquires its inhabitants ; and 
you will therefore often find two ponds close 
beside one another (but not connected by a 
stream), the plants and animals of which are 
nevertheless quite different. 

_- 1 1 >_i 1 1 1 >.i 1 1 1 ■_■ 1 1 




Now, the pond in summer is one thing i 
the pond in winter is quite another. For 
just reflect what winter means to this little 
isolated, self-contained community ! The 
surface freezes over, and life in the mimic 
lake is all but suspended, Not an animal in 
it can rise to the top to breathe ; not a 
particle of fresh oxygen can penetrate to the 
bottom. Under such circumstances, when 
you come to think of it, you might almost 
suppose life in the pond must cease alto- 
gether But nature knows better With her 
infinite cleverness, her infinite variety of 
resource* of adaptation to circumstances, she 
has invented a series of extraordinary 
devices for allowing all the plants and 
animals of a pond to retire in late autumn 
to its unfrozen depths, and there live a 
dormant existence till summer comes again. 
Taking them in the mass, we may say 
that the population sink down to the bottom 
in November or December, and surge up 
again in spring, though in most varied 

Consider, once more, the curious set of 
circumstances which renders this singular 
plan feasible. Water freezes at 32 degrees 
Fahrenheit. For the most part, under 
normal conditions, the water at the top 
of the pond is the warmest, and that at the 
bottom coldest ; for the hot water, being 
expanded and lighter, rises to the surface, 
while the cold water, being contracted and 
heavier, sinks to the depths. If this relation 
remained unchanged throughout, when winter 
came, the coldest water would gradually con- 
geal at the bottom of the pool : 
and so in time the whole pond 
would freeze solid. In that case, 
life in it would obviously be as 
impossible as in the ice of the 
frozen pole or in the glaciers of the 
Alps, But by a singular variation, 
just before water freezes, it begins 
to expand again, so that ice is 
lighter than water. Thus the ice 
as it forms rises to the surface, 
and leaves at the bottom a layer 
of slightly warmer water, some four 
or five degrees above freezing point* 
It is usual to point this fact out as 
a beautiful instance of special pro- 
vision on the part of nature for the 
plants and animals which live in 
the ponds ; but to do so, I think, 
is to go just a step beyond our 
evidence. Nature does not fit all 
places alike for the development 
of life y she does not fit the desert, 

for example, nor the interior of glaciers or 
frozen oceans, nor, for the matter of that, the 
rocks of the earth's mass ; nor does she try to 
fit living beings for such impossible situations* 
All we are really entitled to say is this— that 
the conditions for life do occur in ponds, 
owing to this habit of water, and that there- 
fore special plants and animals have been 
adapted by nature to fulfil them. 

The devices by which such plants and 
animals get over the difficulties of the situa- 
tion, however, are sufficiently remarkable to 
satisfy the most exacting. Recollect that for 
some weeks together the entire pond may be 
frozen over> and that during that dreary time 
all animal or vegetable life at its surface must 
be inevitably destro)ecL For hardly a plant 
or an animal can survive the actual freezing 
of its tissues. Nevertheless, as soon as 
winter sets in, the creatures which inhabit the 
pond feel the cold coming, and begin to 
govern themselves accordingly. A few, which 
are amphibious, migrate, it is true, to more 
comfortable quarters. Among these are 
the smaller newts or efts, which crawl 
ashore, and take refuge from the frost in 
crannies of rocks or walls, or in cool damp 
cellars. Most of the inhabitants of the pool, 
however, remain, and retire for warmth and 
safety to the depths, Even the am phi I nous 
froe;s themselves, which have hopped ashore 
on their stout legs in spring, when they first 
emerged from their tadpole condition, now 
return for security to their native pond, bury 
themselves comfortably in the mud in the 
depths, and sleep in social clusters through 

by LiOOgLC 

I.-TH* ^©FJ^rftfhYfclffl SUMMER. 




the frozen season. They are not long enough 
and lithe enough to creep into crannies above 
ground like the newts ; and with their soft 
smooth skins and unprotected bodies they 
would almost inevitably be frozen to death if 
they remained in the open. On the bottom 
of the pond, however, they huddle close and 
keep one another warm, so that portions of 
the mud in the centre of the pool consist 
almost of a living mass of frogs and other 
drowsy animals. 

Some of the larger pond-dwellers thus hiber- 
nate in their own persons ; others, which 
are annuals, so to speak, die off themselves 
at the approach of winter, and leave only 
their eggs to vouch for them and to continue 
the race on the return of summer, A 
few beetles and other insects split the differ- 
ence by hiber- 
nating in the 
pupa or chrysalis 
condition, when 
they would have 
to sleep in any 
case, and emer- 
ging as full- 
fledged winged 
forms at the end 
of the winter. 
But on the 
whole the com- 
monest way is 
for the plant or 
animal itself in 
its adult shape 
to lurk in the 
warm mud of 
the bottom 
during the cold 

In No. i we have an excellent illustration 
of this most frequent type, in the person of 
the beautiful pointed pond-snail, a common 
English fresh-water niollusk, with a shell so 
daintily pretty that if it did not abound in all 
stagnant waters in our own island we would 
prize it for its delicate transparent amber hue 
and its graceful tapering form, resembling 
that of the loveliest exotics. This pond- 
snail, though it lives in the water, is 
an air-breather, and therefore it hangs 
habitually on the surface of the pool, 
opening its lung-sac every now and then 
to take in a fresh gulp of air, and looking 
oddly upside-down as it floats, shell down- 
ward, in its normal position. It browses at 
times on the submerged weeds in the pond; 
but it has to come to the surface at frequent 
intervals to breathe ; though, in common 



with most aquatic air-breathers, it can go a 
long time without a new store of oxygen, like 
a man when he dives or a duck or swan 
when it feeds on the bottom — of course to a 
much greater degree, because the snail is 
cold blooded j that is to say, in other words, 
needs much less aeration. On a still evening 
in summer you will often find the surface of 
the pond covered by dozens of these pretty 
shells, each with its slimy animal protruded, 
and each drinking in air at the top by its 
open-mouthed lung-sac* 

In winter* however, as you see in No. 2, 
our pond-snail retires to the mud at the 
bottom, and there quietly sleeps away the 
cold season. Being a cold blooded gentle- 
man, he hibernates easily, and his snug nest 
in the ooze, w T here he buries himself two or 

three inches 
m deep, leaves him 
relatively little 
exposed to the 
attacks of ene- 
mies. Indeed, 
since the whole 
pond is then 
sleeping and 
hibernating to- 
gether, there is 
small risk of 
assault till spring 
comes round 

Now, it may 
sound odd at 
first hearing 
when I tell you 
that what the 
animals thus do, 
the plants do 
also. "What?" you will say, " A plant 
move bodily from the surface of the water 
and bury itself in the mud ! It seems 
almost incredible. ,? But the accompanying 
illustrations of one such plant, the curled 
pond- weed, will show you that the aquatic 
weeds take just as good care of themselves 
against winter cold as the aquatic animals. 

In No. 3 you see a shoot of curled pond- 
weed preparing to receive cold attacks at the 
approach of autumn. You may perhaps have 
noticed for yourself that almost all plants of 
stagnant waters tend to be freshest and most 
vigorous at the growing end —the upper portion ; 
while the lower and older part is usually more 
or less eaten away by browsing water-beasties, 
or incrusted by parasites, or draggled and 
torn, or waterlogged and mud-smeared. The 
really vital part of the plant at each moment 




is as a rule the top or growing-shoot. Now, 
if the curled pond weed were to let itself get 
overtaken bodily by winter, and its top 
branches or vigorous shoots frozen in the crust 
of ice which must soon coat the pond, it 
would be all up with it, To guard against this 
calamity, therefore, the plant has hit upon a 
dodge as clever in its way as that of our old 
friend the soldanella which bid by fuel to 
melt the glacier ice in the Alpine springtide. 
Prevention, says the curled pond- weed, is 
better than cure. So, in No. 3, you catch it in 
the very act of getting ready certain special- 
ized detachable shoots, which are its live- 
liest parts, and 
in which all the 
most active pro- 
to plasm and 
chlorophyll (or 
living greenstuff 
of the plant) are 
collected and 
laid by, much as 
food is laid by 
in the bulb of a 
hyacinth ur in 
the tuber of a 
dahlia. These 
shoots are, as it 
were, leafy bulbs, 
meant to carry 
the life of the 
plant across the 
gulf of winter, 

In No, 4 we 
come upon the 


WSD '"■*"*■ Original from 


next act in this curious and inter- 
esting vegetable drama. Most people 
regard plants as mere rooted things, 
with no will of their own, and no 
power of movement. In reality, 
plants, though usually more or less 
attached to the soil, have almost 
as many tricks and manners of 
their own as the vast mass of 
animals; they provide in the most 
ingenious and varied ways for the 
most diverse emergencies. The 
winter shoots of the curled pond- 
weed, for example, carrying with 
them the hopes of the race for a 
future season, are deliberately ar- 
ranged beforehand with a line of 
least resistance, a point of sever- 
ance on the stem, at which in 
the fulness of time they peaceably 
detach themselves* You can note 
in the illustration how they have 
glided off gently from the parent 
stalk, and are now sinking by their own 
gravity to the warmer water of the bottom, 
which practically never freezes in winter, And 
the reason why they sink is thai, being full of 
rich living greenstuff, they are heavier than 
the water, and heavier than the stem which 
previously floated them. This stem has 
many air cavities to keep it fairly erect and 
waving in the water : but the winter shoots 
have none, so that as soon as they detach 
themselves, they sink of their own mere 
weight to the bottom. You may notice that 
the leaves of deciduous trees in autumn have 
similar lines, ordained beforehand, along 

which they break 
off clean, so as 
not to tear or 
injure the per- 
manent tissues ; 
this is particu- 
larly noticeable 
in the foliage of 
the horse-chest- 
nut, and also {in 
spring) In the 
common aralia, 
so often grown 
as a drawing- 
room decoration. 
No. 5 con- 
tinues the same 
series, and shows 
us how the win- 
ter shoots, now 
sunk to the 
bottom, bore a 





hole and root themselves in the soft mud 
hy their sharp, awl-like ends; after which 
they prepare to undergo their sleepy hiber- 
nation. They are now essentially detached 
buds or cuttings, analogous to those 
which the gardener artificially lops off and 
" strikes " in our gardens. Only, the gar- 
deners cuttings have been rudely sliced off 
with a knife, after the crude human fashion, 
while those of the pond- weed have been 
neatly released without injury to the tissues, 
the separation being performed by an act of 
growth, with all the beautiful perfection that 
marks nature's handicraft. 

In the soft slimy mud, the shoots of the 
curled pond -weed lie by during 
the frozen period, hearing the noise 
of the gliding skates above them, 
and suffering slightly at times from 
the chill of the water, but actually 
protected by the great-coat of ice 
from the severest effects of the 
hard weather. Byand-by, when 
spring comes again, however, the 
shoots begin to bud out, as you 
see in No. 6, and once more to 
produce the original type of pond- 
weed. The weed then continues 
to form leaves and stems, and 
finally to flower, which it does with 
a head or spike of queer little 
green blossoms, raised unobtrusively 
above the surface of the water. 
They are not pretty, because they 
do not depend upon animals for 
the transference of their pollen. I 
could Jell you some curious things 
about these flowers, too, which find 

by GOOgle 

themselves far from insects, and 
destitute of attractive petals ; so 
they have taken in despair to a 
quaint method of fertilization by 
bombardment, so to speak — the 
stamens opening in calm weather, 
and dropping their pollen out on 
the saucer-like petals, whence the 
first high wind carries it off with a 
burst to the stigma or sensitive 
surface of the sister flowers. But 
that, though enticing, is another 
story, alien to the philosophy of the 
pond in winter. I will only add 
here that the pond- weed does not 
set its seeds very well, and that 
chances of dispersal are somewhat 
infrequent, so that irregular multi- 
plication by these winter shoots has 
largely taken the place with it of 
normal multiplication by means of 
seedlings. At the same time, we must re- 
member that no prudent plant can venture 
to depend for ever upon such apparent pro- 
pagation by mere subdivision, which is not 
really (in any true sense) propagation at 
all, but is merely increased area of growth 
for the original parent, split up into many 
divergent personalities ; so that the curled 
pond- weed takes infinite pains all the same to 
flower when it can, and to discharge its pollen 
and disperse its seeds as often as practicable. 
Only hy seedlings, indeed (that is to say by 
fresh blood — truly new individuals), can the 
vigour of any stock be permanently secured. 
Sometimes, again, the entire plant retires 

6. — THE SHOOTS IK M'RCffG Kt.lilvM --. !■■ M a)UT ALiAlN. 




to the depths in winter, like the pond-snail. 
This is the case with that pretty floating 
aquatic lily, the water-soldier, whose lovely 
flowers make it a frequent favourite on 
ornamental waters. In summer it floats ; but 
when winter comes it sinks to the bottom, 
and there rests on the mud till spring returns 

In No. 7 you see how another familiar and 
fascinating denizen of the pond, the little 
whirligig beetle, provides his winter quarters. 
The whirligig is one of the daintiest and most 
amusing of the inhabitants of our ponds. He 
is a small round beetle, in shape like a grain 
of corn ; but as he is intended to sport and 
circle on the surface of the water in the broad 
sunshine, he is clad in glistening mail of 
iridescent tints, 
gorgeous with 
bronze and gold, 
to charm the 
eyes of his fas- 
tidious partner. 
You seldom see 
whirligigs alone; 
they generally 
dart about in 
companies on 
the surface of 
some calm little 
haven in the 
pond, a dozen 
at a time, pi- 
rouetting in and 
out with most 
marvellous gyra- 
tions, yet never 
colliding or in* 
terfering with 
one another. I 
have often 

watched them for many minutes together, 
wondering whether they would not at last 
get in one another's way ; but no, at each 
apparent meeting, they glide off in graceful 
curves, and never touch or graze. They 
go on through figures more complicated 
than the lancers or Sir Roger de Cover ley, 
now advancing, now retreating, always in 
lines of sinuous beauty, without angularity 
or strain, and apparently without premedi- 
tation ; yet never for a second do they 
interfere with a neighbour's mazy dance, 
often as they cross and recross each other's 
merry orbits. Dear little playful things they 
seem, as if they enjoyed existence like young 
lambs or children. Sociable, alert, for ever 
gambolling, they treat life as a saraband, 
but with a wonderfully keen eye for approach- 


ing danger. They look at times as if you 
could catch them without trouble ; yet put 
down your hand, and off they dart at once to 
the bottom, or elude you by a quick and 
vigilant side movement, always on the curve, 
like a good skater or a bicyclist. 

This rapid skimming in curves or circles 
on the surface of the water is produced in a 
most interesting way by the co-operation of 
the various pairs of legs, which I can best 
explain by the analogy of the bicycle. The 
two shorter and active hind legs produce the 
quick forward dart, just as the main motion of 
the cycle is given it by the back wheel j the 
longer front legs act like the front wheel of 
the cycle in altering the direction ; one of 
them is jerked out to right or left, rudderwise, 

and gives the 
desired amount 
of curve to the 
resulting motion 
according to the 
will and necessi- 
ties of the insect. 
The steering of a 
Canadian canoe 
comes very near 
it. Anybody who 
has sculled or 
rowed, indeed, 
knows well the 
ease with which 
a boat can be 
shored off in- 
from another, or 
the marvellous 
way in which 
gliding curves 
can be produced 
on the almost unresisting surface of the 
water. The whirligig beetle has a perfect 
steering apparatus in his long and extensible 
fore-legs, and by their means he performs 
unceasingly his play of merry and intricate 

When whirligigs are alarmed, however, 
they dive below the surface as one of a 
pair is doing in No. 7, and carry down with 
them a large bubble of air, for breathing 
purposes, entangled in the joints of their 
complicated legs and the under parts of their 
bodies. On this quaint sublacustrine balloon 
they subsist for breathing till the danger is 
past and they can come to the top again. 

Early in April, when the weather is fine, 
you begin to seethe whirligig beetles dancing 
in and out in, companies, like so many water- 





fairies, on the still top of the pond. They 
prefer calm water ; when the wind drives little 
ripples to the eastern end of the pool, you will 
find them practising their aquatic gymnastics 
under lee of the shore on the western side ; 
when an east wind ruffles the western border, 
you will find them gyrating and interlacing, 
coquetting and pirouetting, hy the calmer 
eastern shallows. As they move in 
their whirls, they form little transient 
circles on the water's top, which 
spread concentrically ; and the 
mutual interference of these widen- 
ing waves is almost as interesting 
at times as the astonishing velocity 
and certainty of movement in the 
beetles themselves. So, all summer 
long, they continue their wild career, 
seeming to earn their livelihood 
easily by amusing themselves. But 
as soon as winter approaches, a 
change comes o'er the spirit of 
their dream. They retire to the 
depths, as you may observe in No. 8 t 
and bury themselves in the mud 
while the pond is frozen over. 
During this period they indulge in 
a good long nap of some five or 
six months, and, awaking refreshed 
in April, come to the surface once 
more, where they begin their gyra- 
tory antics all over again, da capo. 
It is a merry life ; and though the 
whirligig can fly, which he does 
occasionally, 'tis no wonder he 
prefers his skimming existence 

the still, glassy sheet of his native 

The two larger British water- 
beetles, which are such favourite 
objects in the aquariums of young 
naturalists, do not lead quite so 
exclusively aquatic a life ; they 
pass their youth as larvae in the 
pond, and they return to it in their 
full winged or beetle stage, being 
most expert divers; but they both 
retire to dry land to undergo their 
metamorphosis into a chrysalis, and 
they spend their time in the pupa- 
case in a hollow in the ground* 
Something similar occurs with many 
other aquatic animals, which are 
thus conjectured to be the descen- 
dants of terrestrial ancestors, whom 
the struggle for life has forced to 
embrace the easier opening afforded 
by the waters* 

In this respect, that rather rare 
and beautiful little English water-plant, the 
frogbit, shown in No. 9, has a life-history 
not unlike the career of the water-beetles. 
It is a quaint and pretty herb, which 
never roots itself in the mud, like the curled 
pond- weed, but floats freely about on the 
surface, allowing its long roots to hang down 
like streamers into the water beneath it. 


9,— THE FKOdw^lQll EwJlktoff 1 KloiVERlNG, 




The short stem or stock is submerged ; the 
leaves expand themselves freely and loll 
on the surface. Like most other floating 
water-leaves which thus support themselves 
on the top of the water, they are almost 
circular in form— a type familiar to all 
of us in the white and yellow water-lily, 
and also in the beautiful little fringed 
limnanthemum which stars the calmer 
reaches un the upper Thames. The reason 
why floating leaves assume this circular 
shape is easy to perceive ; they need no 
stout stalk to support them, like aerial 
foliage, the water serving to float them 
on its surface ; and as they find the 
whole surround- 
ing space free 
from competi- 
tion, with no 
other plants to 
interfere with 
them, as in the 
crowded mea- 
dows and hedge- 
rows of the land, 
they spread 
freely in the sun- 
shine on every 
side, drinking in 
from the air the 
carbonic acid 
which is the 
chief food of 
plants, and 
building it up 
into their own 
tissues under the 
influence of so 
abundant a sup^ 
ply of solar 
energy. In short, 
the round shape 
is that which 
foliage naturally 
assumes when 

there is no competition, no architectural or 
engineering difficulty, plenty of food, and 
plenty of sunshine. 

The frogbit as a whole, then, is not sub- 
merged like the curled pond-weed; it floats 
unmoored on the surface. It is not rooted, 
but free. Yet when it comes to flowering, it 
has to quit the water, just like the great water- 
beetles, and emerge upon the open air above, 
so as to expose its flowers to the fertilizing 
insects, T h ese flowers are e xt r e mely del i ca t e 
and beautiful, with three papery white petals, 
and a yellow centre ; they make the plant 
a real ornament to all the pond:-; where 

Dig by GOOglC 



it fixes its residence. The males and 
females grow on separate plants, and aquatic 
flies act as their ambassadors, Such is the 
summer life of the frogbit, while fair weather 
lasts ; but, like all other pond denizens, it 
has to reckon in the end with the frozen 

It does so in a way slightly different from, 
though analogous to, that of the curled 
pond- weed. No, to shows you the frogbit 
after the flowering season is over, when it 
begins to anticipate the approach of w p Inter. 
It then sends out slender runners, like 
those of the strawberry vine, on the end 
of each of which is formed a winter bud, 

which answers 
to the winter 
shoots of the 
curled pond- 
weed. By-and-by> 
the pond will 
freeze, and the 
floating leaves of 
the frogbit will 
be frozen and 
killed with it. 
Hut the prudent 
plant provides 
for its own sur- 
vival in the per- 
son of its off- 
shoots, which 
are not its young, 
but integral parts 
of its own indi- 
viduality. It fills 
them with starch 
and other rich 
foodstuffs for 
growth next 
season. About 
the time when 
the pond grows 
cool, the buds 
detach them- 
selves, like the winter shoots of the pond- 
weed, and slowly descend by their own 
weight to the bottom. But they do not 
root themselves there, as the pond- weed 
shoots did ; they merely lie by, like the 
whirligig beetles^ as you can see one of them 
preparing to do in the left-hand corner of 
No, 10- All the living material is drained 
from the leaves into these winter bulbs. The 
pond freezes over, and the remnant of the 
floating leaves decay ; but the buds lurk 
quietly in the warm mud of the bottom, 
protected by a covering of close-filting scale- 
leaves. Original from 



hud still entangled in the 

In No, ii we learn the end of this quaint 
little domestic drama. Spring has come, and 
the pond has thawed again. The winter 
buds of the frogbit now undergo certain 
spongy internal changes, due to warmth 
and growth, which make them lighter — 
lessen their specific gravity. Air-cells are 
developed in them. So they begin to rise again 
like bubbles to the surface, You can see in 
the illustration one 
slime on the 
bottom ; another 
just starting to 
emerge ; a third 
rising ; and a 
fourth and fifth 
on the surface 
of the pool. Two 
more have al- 
ready risen ; one 
of these is just 
putting forth its 
first few kidney- 
shaped leaves ; 
another has now 
grown pretty 
strong, and is 
sending out a 
runner, from 
which a third 
little plant is 
even beginning 
to develop. In 
time, hundreds 
of such runners 
direction, till the 
suitable places, is 

II, — Tilt 15LDS KM^G AtLAL?^ IS SI'K[N<p, AM,i <- V K'. H- I I Si.: 1 \ TO A 

are sent forth in every 
surface of the pond, in 
covered with a network of 
tangled and interlacing frogbits, They always 
seem to me in this way the plant-counterparts 
of the whirligig beetles ; and it is because of 
this queer analogy in their mode of life that 
I have figured the two here in such close 

Indeed, I hope I have now begun to make 
it clear to you that the difference of habit 
between plants and animals is not nearly so 
vast as most people imagine. It is usual to 
think of animals as active, but of plants as 
merely passively existing. I have tried, here 
and elsewhere, to lay stress rather upon the 
moments in life when plants are doing s&we- 
things and thus to suggest to my readers the 
close rcseqiblance which really exists between 
their activities and those of animals. The 
more you watch plants, the more will you 

find how much this is true. And in a case 
like that of a pond frozen in winter, where 
both groups have to meet and face the self- 
same difficulty, it is odd to note how exactly 
similar are the various devices by which 
either group has succeeded in surmounting it. 
When you skate carelessly over the frozen 
pond in winter, you never perhaps reflect 
upon all the wealth of varied life that lies 
asleep beneath your feet. But it is there in 

abundance. The 
smaller newt, to 
be sure, has 
gone ashore to 
hibernate : but 
his great crested 
brother lurks 
somnolent in 
the mud, like a 
torpid bear or 
a sleepy dor- 
mouse. Frogs 
huddle buried 
in close-packed 
groups at the 
centre, massed 
together in the 
soft ooze for 
warmth and 
company. Many 
kinds of aquatic 
snails slumber 
peaceably hard 
by, with various 
beetles beside the whirligigs. As for 
eggs and spawn and larvee or pupae, as 
well as petty crustaceans, you could count 
them by the dozen. Seeds are there, 
too, and buried plants of water-crowfoot, 
and winter shoots and winter buds, and a 
whole world of skulkers The pond seems 
dead, if you look only nt its hard and frozen 
top ; but in its depths it incloses for kind 
after kind the manifold hope of a glorious 
resurrection. Let May but come back with :\ 
few genial suns, and forthwith, the water- 
crowfoot spreads its white sheet of tender 
bloom ; the whirligig dances anew ; the newts 
acquire their red and orange spots and their 
decorative crests ; strange long-legged creatures 
stalk on stilts over the glass of the calm bays, 
anil tndpoles swarm black and fat in the 
basking shallows. The pond, it seems, was 
not dead but sleeping. Spring sounds, its 
clarion note, and all nature is alive again. 


by Google 

Original from 

A Woman s Chance of Marriage. 

Written and Illustrated by John Holt Schooling,* 

KRHAPS there is nothing that 
is more annoying to the average 
woman who wishes to marry a 
particular man than to see 
hlrn carried off by some other 
woman — unless not getting 
married at all be more annoying to a woman 
than the failure to marry the man she fancies. 
No one can doubt that there are many 
most pleasant spinsters, no longer in the first 
bloom of youth, who would make excellent 
wives, and one has often been surprised to 
see such women left unmarried, while other 
women, in no respect superior to these 
pleasant spinsters, are often married. 

This and other things I have noticed 
cause me to think there has been, and still is, 
a £reat misdirection of energy on the part of 
spinsters who wish to marry. While there is 
much that is unpalatable to the average man 
in women who are too obviously bent on 
marriage, there is surely no reason why a 
thoroughly nice woman who prefers matri- 
mony to a single life should not, within the 
limits of good taste and of discretion, direct 
her attractiveness into the channel that is the 
most likely to aid her in attaining her desire ; 
but this is seldom done, or, if done some- 
times by chance or by intuition, this right 
direction, by a woman, of her endeavour to 
marry, is not carried out with any clear idea 
as to who is the most likely man to marry her. 
I mean, when I say the most likely man, 
that the average woman has absolutely no 
knowledge of the fact that, according to her 
age and her civil condition (/>., spinster or 
widow), this or that group of men, and 
the man's civil condition (i.e., bachelor or 
widower), may be pointed to as the group 
who supply the best chance of success to the 
woman wishing to marry, while other groups 
of men may be shown to her with whom her 
chance of marriage is practically nil. 

l ; or example, a bachelor aged 25 — 34 is 
worth to a woman— as a marrying man—fifty 
young bachelors at ages 1 5— 1 9, for the chance 
of the older man marrying within one year 
is fifty times as great as the chance of one of 
the younger men. This is an extreme case, 
purposely chosen to illustrate my words ; hut 
a bachelor aged 25 --34 is worth three times 
as much to a woman— as a marrying man— 
as a bachelor aged 35—44. This is the sort 
of information that I have to impart 
unmarried women, and it is worth noting. 
Recognising this waste of misdired 

endeavour of spinsters, and wishing to see 
fewer mature spinsters than one does see, I 
have applied myself to the task of finding out 
a lot of curious and, I hope, valuable facts 
as to a woman's chance of marriage, according 
to her age and her civil condition. The task 
has not been an easy one, for, with the 
exception of a scanty investigation of this 
interesting subject about thirty years ago by 
an official in the office of the Registrar- 
General (and whose facts are now, of course, 
out of date^ no one has given any attention 
to a matter that is really very important— 
especially to women who wish to marry. So 
I have had to make an entirely independent 
investigation, based on the most recent raw 
material I could find in the official records. 


ATAGE^ 20-2V ; ONE 

AT Mi^2$-2% ONE 

AT A<i^ 35-2>9,ONE 

AT ACES ^O-i.4; 
SPINSTER in 59 r 

Original from 




First, let me direct attention to Diagram 
No. 1. This shows the varying chances of 
marriage possessed by spinsters of the ages 
mentioned, from ages 15— 19 to ages 55—64. 
We see that a spinster's best chance of 
marriage is at ages 25 — 29, for then one 
spinster of every eight spinsters, of these ages, 
marries within one year. The competition 
for the tiny wedding-ring which, in each of 
these eight groups of spinsters, encircles the 
black dot that represents the one spinster 
who marries in each group, becomes greater 
as age advances, until at ages 55 — 64 
only one spinster marries in every 365 
spinsters of these ages ; only one of the dots 
in our last group of No. 1 is surrounded by 
the tiny ring, the 364 other dots (or spinsters) 
being left unmarried. I may say that at ages 
65 and upwards, the wedding-ring is secured 
by only one spinster in 3,030 spinsters aged 
65 and upwards — the chance of marriage has 
dropped to its lowest point. 

The practical hint that is given to spinsters 
by Diagram No. 1 is, " Make hay while the 
sun shines," /.*., at ages 20 — 29 ; don't 
frivol with men not likely to marry, for these 
are the years when a spinster's chance of 
marriage is highest Later, I shall tell 
spinsters which men are likely to marry them 
at these and other ages. 

Widows are formidable rivals of spinsters. 
For example, compare the following rates of 
re-marriage of widows with those of spinsters 
just given in No. 1 : — 

One Widow 

One Spinster 






in eihery 

15-19 ... 



73 spinsters. 

*o- -24 ... 



'1 " 

a 2 M 

58 ,. 

25—34 ••• 



• 3o- 



... 23 




45—54 ■•■ 
55—64 .» 

... 63 


no „ 

... 324 




This little statement shows that, through- 
out life, a widow's chance of re-marrying is 
greater than a spinster's chance of marrying, 
for, although at ages 25 — 29 a spinster's 
chance is slightly better than a widow's 
chance at age 25 — 34, yet, as at ages 30—34 
a spinster's chance is much less than a 
widow's chance at ages 25 — 34, the dis- 
advantage for ages 25 — 34 is distinctly on 
the side of the spinster. 

In No. 2 we see how marriages are made 
up of the four pairs of men and women who 
marry. Thus : — 

Spinsters and Bachelors 
Spinsters and Widowers 
Widows and Widowers 
Widows and Bachelors 


In every 
1 t W0marnoif39. 
... 858 
... 66 
... 41 
- 35 


by Google 

You may say : " Spinsters are all right, 
then; for they take 924 wedding-rings in 
every 1,000 rings that are put on to the 
fingers of brides." True, but these results 
are based merely on the total number of 
marriages that take place ; they do not take 





No. 2. — The Tour groups of men and women who 
marry, showing the number of marriages in each 
group, to every x t ooo marriages which occur. 

into the account the proportion of spinsters 
who marry to the total number of spinsters 
at each age in the country (as was done in 
No. 1), nor do they show the proportion of 
widows who re-marry, to the total number 
of widows, at each age, in the country, as was 
done in the little comparative statement as 
to widows' and spinsters' chances just given. 
There are many more spinsters than widows, 
and thus, of course, many more spinsters 
marry ; but if you take 100 widows of any age 
and 100 spinsters of the same age, the widows 
will (on re-marriage) take more wedding- 
rings than the spinsters. 

To illustrate this point I have prepared 
No. 3, which shows the encroachment of the 
widow, who takes more than her " fair shar* " 








No. 3. — The Encroachment of the Widow en the preserves of the Spinster. Widows, on re-marriage, take more than their 
'fair share " of both Bachelors and Widowers. [Without taking into the account the previous marriage, or marriages, of a widow.] 

of men — without including her previous hus- 
band or husbands. 

Here are the facts :— Aetna. "Fair 

No. Share" 

Bachelors taken by Widows ... 1,025 ... 1,000 
Widowers „ „ ... 1,467 ... 1,000 

Thus, for every 1,000 bachelors who should 
Fall to widows, 1,025 are married by widows ; 
and as regards widowers, instead of 1,000, 
widows take 1,467 ! This is hardly fair to the 
spinster, especially as all these widows have 
already had at least one husband, who is not 
included in the above results, and the 
practical, hint given to spinsters by Diagram 
No. 3 is — be wary of the widow with the 
downcast eye, if the man you fancy gets into 
her society. I may say that the largest excess 

15 — 19 to 65 and upwards. A spinster, or a 
widow — who knows her own age — has merely 
to look in No. 4 for the black line at the 
end of which is written her age, and she will 
see how she stands as compared with other 
women who are her rivals in matrimony. I 
regret to have to say that widows take the 
first two places in No. 4, and that, in propor- 
tion to the number of widows in this country ; 
aged 20 — 24^ these young widows are the 
champion marrying women. However, spin- 
sters need not feel discouraged, for, luckily 
for them, there are not nearly so many of 
these dangerous widows as there are spinsters. 
I do not give the actual numerical equiva- 
lents of the black lines in No. 4, as the 

■WIDOWS acf 25-34- 

ISP1NSTER9 a<;e 25-i4- 


■ WIOOWS AGE 15-1^ 
I WIDOWS AGE 35-4-4- 


WIDOWS AGE 4.5-54- 
SPlNSTErVS ACE 15-1 9 
■■■SPINSTERS AQt 45-54* 
■ WIDOWS AGE 55-64- 
I WIDOWS A^E 65 wo Upwaho*. 
I SPINSTERS AGE 65 and Upwards 







No. 4.— The respective chances of marriage of women, arranged in regular order. 

over their fair share of bachelors is taken by 
widows aged 20 — 24, and of widoivers, by 
widows aged 20 — 24 and 25 — 34. There- 
fore, widows aged 20 — 34 are more dangerous 
rivals to spinsters than widows at other ages. 

Diagram No. 4 gives a bird's-eye view of 
the respective chances of women (spinsters 
and widows, separately) at various ages from 

lines themselves speak 
regards the comparisons 
In No. 5 we have the 
widowers as compared 
marrying men. This is 
statement, and it shows 
chance of a widower re 
than that of a bachelor 

plainly enough as 
they illustrate, 
respective values of 

with bachelors — as 
a rather useful little 
that, at all ages, the 
-marrying is greater 
marrying. For con- 

by Google 

Original from 




. 25-3Zh, • 

* • 


. 35-^., . 

* « 


• 45-54. • 

• < 


. 55-fe/i-, • 

% * 





No. 5.— The respective values of Widtwers atxl of Bachelors, as marrying men, at the 
ages stated above. The value of the w.dower is always greater than that of the 
bachelor, as a marrying man. 

venience I have, at each group of ages in No. 
5, given the value, in bachelors, of ten 
widowers. For example, at ages 35 — 44, ten 
widowers are worth thirty bachelors, so that 
if a woman who wishes to marry have the 
opportunity of attracting three bachelors and 
one widower, all of ages 35 — 44, she had 
better go for the widower, as his chance of 
marrying is worth the com- 
bined chances of all the 
three bachelors. This is a 
very useful hint to women, 
and No. 5 supplies other 

In No. 6 we have a 
statement of the relative 
values of widowers — as marrying men — in 
accordance with the age of the widower. 
The lowest value of a widower is at ages 
65 and upwards, and this value is taken as 
the unit by which to measure the values of 
widowers at all younger ages. Thus, a 
widower aged 25 — 34 is worth 38 widowers 
aged 65 and upwards, and he is worth rather 

more than three widowers 
aged 45—54 <3« to 12). 
Similarly, a widower aged 
35—44 is worth rather over 
two widowers aged 45 — 54 ; 
and so on. 

These essentially practical 
hints to women who wish 
to marry will, I hope, be 
recognise '. by women and 
acted on. They are put as 
clearly and as practically as possible, and 
intellects which can master the mysteries of 
paper dress-patterns and the intricacies of a 
cookery-book will not, I feel sure, fail to 
follow the gist of the somewhat novel 
information I am now imparting to the 
unmarried women of this country. 

One of the most valuable pieces of infor- 

1 WIDOWER at AGES 20-24- 1* Worth 24-WIDOWERSatAGE&65ano upwards 

1 . - 25-34- 



. bS 


1 . • 35-U- 



. 65- 


1 . * U£-$± 



, 6* 


1 • * 55-fe4 



. . 6S 

No. 6. — The relative values of Widowers, as marrying men, at the ages stated above. 

mation now given is that contained in 
Diagram No. 7. Here we have set out, in 
the order of value, the respective values 
of widowers and of bachelors — as marrying 
men. The men who marry most, in p opor- 
tion to the number of them in this country, 
are widowers aged 25—34; there are not, 
of course, so many widowers aged 25 — 34 as 




■■■■■■■ BACHELORS ACE 20-24 

■■■■BACHELORS A£E 35-4-4- 

■ WIDOWERS AGE 65awoUpwa*os 

BACHELORS AGe65a"dUpwards 









No. 7. —A Practical Guide to women contemplating Man-urge. 

by Google 

Original from 



there are men in some of the other 
groups, but when you do come across one 
of these widowers aged 25 — 34, you may 
feel sure that he belongs to the group of 
men that are the best marrying men 
there are. He is worth, as a marrying man, 
a good deal more than a bachelor aged 
25 — 34. See in No. 7 the much shorter 
black line that relates to bachelors aged 


Notice, also, that the first three places in 
No. 7 are taken by widowers. These three 
leading groups, which comprise widowers aged 
20 — 44, show that these men are men who 
should not be neglected by women who wish 
to marry in favour of such comparatively 
worthless men (*>., worthless as marrying 
men) as bachelors at ages 20 — 24, 35 — 44, 
45 — 54, etc. Not one of these bachelors is 
nearly so valuable as a widower who is 
included by the first three black lines 
in No. 7 ; there are, of course, many 

the young ones who are really almost worth- 
less (as marrying men), may not infrequently 
mislead the young woman who wishes to 
marry, owing to the encouragement by 
the bachelor of an entirely fallacious 
opinion in the woman's mind as regards 
his own value. Table No. 8 will be useful 
to women as a corrective for this little fallacy. 
Many women lose their chance of marriage 
during the very best period of their lives, 
owing to a mistaken direction of their 
energies towards men who are practically 
of very small value as possible husbands. 
This may be pleasant, but it is certainly 
foolish, if the woman really wish to 
marry. (I speak without prejudice, for I 
am married.) 

If a woman let her best years go by, in 
frivolling with men who are of small value as 
possible husbands, she one day realizes the 
fact that she wishes to marry— and finds it 
difficult. Well, I want to help these women. 

1 Bachelor 

atAGES 20-24- is Worth 3&BACHEIDH$J 

tT AGES 15-19. 

1 . 

. 25-3A- 


50 - 



1 . 

. 35-A-4- 


£ : 



1 - 

. L5-5U. 



15-1 9. 


.. 55-64, 





No. 8. — The relative values of Bachelors, as marrying men, at the ages stated above. 

more bachelors of these ages than there 
are widowers ; but, man for man, the 
widower is a much better "chance" than 
the bachelor. 

The respective values of bachelors, of 
different ages, is given in No. 8. The 
bachelor whose value is lowest is he at ages 
15 — 19, and this lowest value has been 
taken as the unit by which to measure 
the value of bachelors at the other ages 
up to age 64. (Bachelors aged 65 and 
upwards are even less valuable — as marry- 
ing men — than those aged 15 — 19. See 
No. 7.) 

We see, in No. 8, that a bachelor aged 
25 — 34 is worth fifty bachelors aged 15 — 19, 
as regards the chance of his marrying within 
the year. And it is worth noting that a 
bachelor aged 35 — 44 is worth nearly three 
bachelors aged 45 — 54, a bachelor aged 
45 — 54 being worth just three of those 
a g ed 55— 6 4, etc. 

It is rather useful to give these com- 
parative statements as to the respective 
values of bachelors at different ages, and as 
to the respective values of bachelors and 
widowers, etc. ; for some bachelors, especially 

If their time has gone for getting any man 
they fancied, the best thing they can do is to 
find out who are the most likely men to marry 
them now. 

Diagram No. 9 contains a broad summary 
of the following facts :— 

Spinsters Bachelors 

Aged Aged 

a 1 — 24 most often marry 21—24 
'5—29 » »• » 25—29 
3o—34 «t it » 30-34 
35— 19 m » » 35—39 


Spinsters Widowers 

Aged Aged 

40 — 44 most often marry 40 — 44 


/o— 74 

by Google 

Thys, after age 39, the spinster's best 
chance is with widowers, and she will do well 
to select widowers of the ages stated, which 
vary according to her own age. 

Even widows may be glad of a prac- 
tical hint on this score — for they, like 
spinsters, frivol to the detriment of 
their chance of re-marriage, although not 
to so great an extent as spinsters 

Original from 



Here is a statement 1 for widows : — 

Widows Bachelors 

Aged A&d 

21—24 most frequently marry 21—24 

25—29 i> m >» 25—29 

30—34 »» » » 30—34 

35—39 »» « » 30—34 


Widows Widowers 

Aged Aged 

40—44 most frequently marry 40—44 
45—49 » »» ti 

50—54 » » t. 

55 59 n »» »• 

60—64 ,, f| M 

65—69 ,, M f| 

70—74 >■ »• » 

As with spinsters after 
age 39, so also with 
widows, the best men to 
go for are widowers. 

The foregoing state- 
ments show those mar- 
riages- which most often 
occur. But, as this is a 
very valuable part of my 
subject, I have also in- 
vestigated the matter as 
to who are the most likely 
men for women to marry, 
based on the number of 
such men in the popula- 
tion — a somewhat dif- 
ferent matter from 
that just discussed, and 
which is perhaps more 

By this method, I find 
that :— 

Spinsters at ages 15 — 44 have the 

best chance with Bachelors. 
Spinsters at ages 45 and upwards 

have the best chance with Widowers. 


Widows at ages 15—34 have the best 

chance with Bachelors. 
Widows at ages 35 and upwards 


have the best chance with Widowers. 

And, for each group of 
ages, we get the following 
very interesting and valu- 
able results, which show, 
for every ioo spinsters 
who marry at each age, 
and for every ioo widows 
who marry at each age, 
the numbers who marry 

bachelors and widowers, respectively : 


Spuutert, Spinster* 


; Widows ' 

marry l marry 



• marry 











14 ; 







! 15 







' 29 , 







$ l 







78 . 


5 5 1 6 * 




90 1 






90 ' 


by Google 

This tells spinsters that from ages 15 — 34 
their best chance, by far, is to marry 
bachelors ; at ages 35 — 44 their chance with 
bachelors is still better than with widowers ; 
but at ages 45 and upwards, the best chance 
of the spinster is to marry a widower. And 
for widows, their chance at ages 15 — 34 is by 
far the best with bachelors ; after age 34, 
with widowers. 

These results are based not merely on the 
number of marriages which actually occur 
— as in No. 9 — but also 
upon the respective 
numbers of spinsters, 
widows, bachelors, and 
widowers in the popu- 
lation at each group of 
age. And, therefore, 
these results are more 
accurate than those in 
No. 9, although there 
is not very much dif- 
ference between the two. 
These results give to 
spinsters an extension of 
five years in which to 
marry bachelors (/>., 
from age 39 to age 44), 
and they give to widows 
five years less in which 
to marry bachelors (/>., 
from age 39 to age 34). 

Women who wish to 
marry, and especially 
spinsters, may certainly 
help themselves to attain 
their wish by acting on 
some of the hints I have 
given as to their chances 
of marriage at various 
ages, and to various men. 
To encourage these un- 
marrijed women still 
more, I have found out 
with approximate ac- 
curacy the number of 
spinsters, widows, bache- 
lors, and widowers, at 
each group of ages, who 
are in this country at the 
present time, 1898. I think that spinsters will 
be agreeably surprised to find that there are 
many more marriageable men than they 
imagine. The popular idea that there are 
three women to every man is wholly fallacious, 
and when we deduct all the married men 
and women now in England and Wales 
(the facts are not available for Scotland 
or for Ireland) we get the following rather 

Original from 

No. 9.— Affinities between Spinsters and 
Bachelors, Spinsters and Widowers, Widows 
and Bachelors, Widows and Widowers — accord- 
ing to tbe age of the persons who marry. [For 
more details, see text. ] 



interesting results for persons 
upwards : — 

Number of spinsters, bachelors, 

widows, and widower s in England 

and Wales in Itfltt, at agss 90 and 


Spinsters 2,542,100 

Bachelors 2,364,100 

Excess of Spinsters ... 178,000 


Excess of Widows 

1, 218,100 


Spinsters and Widows .., 
Bachelors and Widowers.., 

Excess of Spinsters 1 
and Widows ... / 

2 ,892,50 


aged 20 and with ages 15 — 19, so as to include some 

and men than are included 

Number of females 

to ever § 1,000 malei 

of the groups in the 

left-hand column, 


i ,000 





We see that as regards spinsters and 
bachelors, at £ges 20 and upwards, the excess 
of spinsters is only 75 in every 1,000 bachelors 
— by no means a disquieting excess of 

younger women 
by the summary 



There are 


wmnen, i «., 

Spinster* and 

Widows, as 


20 — 24 ... 1,066,500 

25-34 - 
35—44 ••• 
45—54 - 
55-04 ... 


just given : — 

There are 

men, is., 
Bachelors and 
Widowers, as 
1,583,600 ... 
. 1,089,700 ... 
800,800 ... 
317,600 ... 
223,700 ... 
191,500 . 
269,200 ... 

No . of marriageable 

women to every 1,000 

marriageable men. 


978 . 
1,072 . 

x,'866 * 
2,097 . 



We see that -at the first two age -groups, 
15 — 19 and 20—24, there are actually more 
bachelors and widowers than there are 
spinsters and widows. At age-group, 25 — 
34, the excess of marriageable women over 
marriageable men commences with an excess 
of seventy-two in every 1,000 bachelors and 
widowers. This is only an excess of women 

No. ia— The Great Superiority of the Widow over the Spinster, as a marrying woman, in the 
years 1870-1872. 

spinsters for spinsters to contemplate. The 
widows out-number the widowers by more 
than 2 to 1; there are 230 widows to every 
100 widowers, and this excess of widows, 
coupled with the superior re-marriage rates of 
widows over spinsters (to which I have already 
directed the attention of spinsters), does tend 
to work against the interests of spinsters who 
wish to marry. 

It is rather interesting to split up the 
excess of marriageable women over marriage- 
able men, just shown, into the various 
age-groups, so that marriageable women may 
see how they stand at each group of age, 
in regard to the number of men who are 
available as possible husbands. I will begin 

by Google 

to the extent of seven per 100 men, and this 
slight excess of marriageable women is in 
respect of the ages 25—34, so that at a 
spinster's best years for her chance of marri- 
age (ages 20—29, see Diagram No. 1), we 
may say that there are practically as many, or 
more, marriageable men as there are women. 
At the next age-group, 35 — 44, a lot of 
widows enter the field, and this fact, com- 
bined with the excess of spinsters over 
bachelors at ages 35 — 44 (305,000 spinsters, 
256,000 bachelors ; excess of spinsters, 
49,000), causes the number of marriageable 
women at these ages to exceed the number 
of marriageable men to the extent of nearly 
40 per 100 men. 

Original from 



At the later ages, 45 and upwards, the 
excess of women over men increases, but this 
excess is mainly due to an excess of widows, 
for, at ages 45 and upwards, there are actually 
more widows in our population than spinsters ; 
the respective numbers of spinsters and 
widows, in every 100 marriageable women, 


Xo. of 

No. oj 











... 69 



45- 54 


58 ... 


55- *4 




65 & up. 


. 8 4 ... 


{Note.— At ages 20— 24 there are rather more than 99 spinsters 
to 1 wido* : but, to avoid fractions, I have stated the results as 

We see that, at ages 45 and upwards, the 
widows are considerably in excess of the 
spinsters in our population, and at these 
later ages, 45 and upwards, the marriageable 
men are considerably in excess of the 

for each group of ages the marriage-rate of 
widows with the marriage-rate of spinsters, 
the marriage rate of widows being represented 
by the zig-zag line which is always seen above 
the lower line in No. 10, which represents 
the marriage-rate of spinsters in the -ears 
1870— 1872. 

Here is the comparison : — 

The marriage-rate of epintUn being taken {for convenience a/ 

comparison) at TV " * ' " 



15-19 ••■ 
20- 24 
25—29 ... 
30-34 •■• 
45-49 ■•■ 
50-54 ... 

55-59 •■• 

60 -64 ... 

65-69 ... 

/o -74 •■ 

Thus, only at ages 15—24 have widows 
increased the advantage over spinsters which 

s*, me morrvuge-raie oj m 
In the yean 1*70-72. 
(See Diagram No. in. ) 

tootr* woe 

On recent facta 




... ... 16 

::: \l) 


... , 9 i 
::: 3 




... »l 
24 f 


?3 1 

... 2,/ 



O °* the Population 


One Person Marries, 
73 o* r nt ForutAT 

i,IN IOncPe 

rson Marries in 


No. it.— The superiority of England and Wales— as a marrying-plac* 
over Scotland and Ireland ; and of Scotland over Ireland. 

spinsters, and, but for the large number of 
widows who are then the formidable rivals 
of spinsters, the latter would have much less 
difficulty in getting married than is usually 
the case with spinsters at these mature ages. 
This fact, as do many of the others I have 
pointed out to spinsters, gives emphasis to 
the adage, " Make hay while the sun shines "; 
or, in other words, don't frivol with men of 
small value as possible husbands when you 
are at the period of life when your chance of 
marriage is greatest — viz., at ag<es 20—29. 

However, I am glad to be able to state for 
the encouragement of spinsters that the 
competition of widows is not so keen now as 
it was in the years 1870 — 1872, to which 
Diagram No. 10 relates. This chart compares 

they had nearly thirty years ago ; at all the 
other ages the spinster has succeeded in 
lessening the great advantage of the widow 
shown by No. 10, and to an appreciable 

Diagram No. 11 contrasts the marriage- 
rates of the three parts of the United King- 
dom, of which England stands highest as a 
marrying country. The highest marriage-rate 
in the registration divisions of England is in 
the County of London. With this last hint to 
women who wish to marry, I conclude this 
inquiry into a woman's chance of marriage, 
expressing the hope that the information now 
given to spinsters may be of practical value 
to these ladies, and so I say to them — Fare 
ye well. 

Vol. xv.- 35. 

by Google 

Original from 

The A dmiral 's Misadventure. 

An Unfinished Chapter in British Diplomacy. 

Kv Gilbert Heron, late R.M,A + 


HE dinner-gong was just sound- 
ing its noisy warning to the 
hungry occupants of H.M.S, 
Gigantifs wardroom one even- 
ing in February, 1897, as I 
crossed from my cabin to the 
Admiral's for dinner 

We were in the Grecian Archipelago with 
the Eastern Division of the Mediterranean 
Fleet ; and the Gigantu\ one of the latest 
class of battleships, was the flagship, carrying 
Vice-Admiral Stanhope, C.B., whose flag- 
lieutenant I had the honour of being during 
the whole of his long and eventful command 
in those waters. We had that afternoon left 
the Island of Lesbos, after a week's stay, and 
we had evidently intended staying there far 
longer, when suddenly a telegram — from 
what quarter I did not yet know-had sent us 
packing at an hours notice. 

Affairs at Constantinople had been serious 
for some time— most serious, indeed ; and in 
common with everyone fore and aft the ship, I 
surmised that our proceedings must be in some 
way connected with the course of events there. 
My curiosity was, in fact, thoroughly roused, 
the more so that 
the Admiral, with 
unusual reticence, 
had studiously 
avoided any refer- 
ence to our ulti- 
mate destination 
throughout the 
day. Admirals, 
however, are curi- 
ously like ordinary 
mortals in most 
ways, and I hoped 
that after dinner, 
when the generous 
wine had begun to 
do its work, he 
would prove more 
communicative, It 
was, therefore, with 
more than usual 
interest that I 
obeyed the sum- 
mons of the loudly 
clanging gong, and 
entered the Ad- 
miral's cabin. 
Punctual as ever 

to the second, he was already in the fore" 
cabin, wjiere the small table at which we 
dined was gleaming in the soft yellow glow 
of the incandescent lights, with the sheen 
of brilliant white napery, cut-glass, and silver, 

The Admiral, usually so genial, was re- 
served and taciturn, answering my attempts 
at conversation in monosyllables, and he had 
a preoccupied and somewhat careworn look. 
Soup, fish, and entree we consumed almost 
in silence, broken only by the sounds of the 
ship's band each time the cabin-door opened, 
and the unending throbbing of the great 
engines away down in the heart of the ship, 
Not till the meal was over, and our cigars 
alight, did the Admiral unbend. 

li FTarley," he said, the strains of the ever- 
impressive M Miserere/' from Verdi's "Trova- 
tore," softly floating in upon us, u I daresay 
you've been wondering why we left so 
suddenly this afternoon, and where we are 
off to. I did not enlighten you before, 
because I had not quite made up my mind 
as to what part you were to take in the 
affair on hand ; but as I have come to the 
conclusion that you are the best individual to 
help me, I will put you in possession of the 

by Google 


Original from 




facts. You know, of course," he continued, 
"that things in Constantinople have lately 
been causing grave anxiety to the Governments 
of Europe. The patience of our own Govern- 
ment has been often enough severely tried, 
and to-day, according to the cipher cablegram 
which I received, the Sultan has overstepped 
the boundary and the Ambassador has sent 
for the Fleet. I am to concentrate all my 
available strength at the Island of Imbros, in 
a bay on the north side of the island, which 
is well screened from passing observation. 
It is, of course, of the utmost importance 
that our movements should be kept entirely 
secret, both from the Turkish Government 
and from the Governments who would side 
against England in the event of war, and at 
Imbros we shall be out of the way, and yet 
only about thirty miles from the mouth of 
the Dardanelles." 

"And what is to be done then, sir, on our 
arrival at Imbros ? " 

"The Fleet will remain there, while the 
Ambassador will send his steam yacht, the 
Imogene, down to fetch me. He desires to 
see me personally, and give me certain 
instructions regarding the possible, nay, in- 
evitable, outbreak of hostilities. I had at 
first decided to go up alone, but on second 
thoughts I have resolved that you shall 
accompany me." 

" But are you quite certain then, sir, that 
war must result ? " 

"Almost You see, although the British 
Government do not wish to incur the onus 
of actually declaring war, they are making 
certain diplomatic moves which, as far 
as one can tell, must result in war. The 
Ambassador is to demand the enforce- 
ment of certain drastic reforms, and demand 
also such great concessions, that if granted 
would give England practically the entire 
control of things Eastern. This, too, 
he is to demand being carried into effect 
within twelve hours of his ultimatum. Now, 
even in tfte very unlikely event of the Porte 
assenting to his propositions, or even promis- 
ing to consider them, the other nations of 
Europe will never agree to them, and this 
will at once precipitate the Armageddon 
which England is at length prepared for. 
We shall arrive at Imbros about four bells in 
the morning watch, and anchor in ' Divisions 
— Line ahead.' The Imogene should be 
awaiting our arrival on the north side of the 
Isle. I will give you a long general signal 
now, if you will come into the cabin, which 
will inform the captains of the object of our 
journey, and prepare them for further develop- 

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ments." And rising, he led the way into the 
brilliantly lighted cabin. 


At 6 a.m. the next day the Fleet, still 
steaming in two lines, swept round the N.E. 
corner of the hilly and rugged little Island of 
Imbros, and dropped anchor there. 

As the Admiral had expected, the Imogene 
was already on the spot. I followed the 
Admiral down the accommodation ladder 
into his 16-oared barge, a long, lithe boat 
painted a deep blue, which had— and still 
has, I believe — the reputation of being one of 
the best racing boats on the station. We 
were rapidly pulled through the odd half mile 
of clear and sparkling blue water which 
separated us from the Imogene^ whose Com- 
mander was standing on her quarter-deck 
waiting to welcome us. 

"You are quite ready to proceed, I 
suppose?" said the Admiral, as soon as we 
were aboard. 

" Quite, sir," responded the Commander, 
and in a few moments we were speeding on 
our way. Two hours later we rounded Cape 
Hellas, and entered the historic Dardanelles, 
and for the next few hours sped swiftly along 
that famous and strongly guarded channel. 

About 6 p.m. we entered the Sea of 
Marmora, and at the rate we were travelling 
expected to sight Constantinople between 
10 p.m. and 11 p.m., and exactly at five bells 
in the first watch I caught my first glimpse of 
the wonderful city. We dropped anchor 
opposite Tophane, in the midst of a double 
line of passenger steamers from every country 
in Europe. 

A small steam-launch, which had been 
waiting our arrival at the landing-stage, now 
came busily panting up alongside. At the 
Quay a closed carriage was waiting for us, 
and then, threading our way past the moonlit 
quays, warehouses, and arsepals of Tophane, 
we were soon clattering along the fine Rue 
Yeni-Chartche, at the head of which stood 
our destination, the British Embassy. 

The Ambassador received us in person, 
having timed our arrival to a nicety, and it 
was 7 a.m. before the interview terminated, 
and we were rapidly being driven back to 
the landing-stage. In an hour's time we 
were once more aboard the Imogene^ the 
anchor hoisted, and the fantastic white glory 
of Stamboul being rapidly left behind us. 

At two o'clock in the afternoon, having 
lunched, we had come on deck, and the 
Admiral was easily discussing the probable 
course of events which would result on the 

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Ambassador promulgating his ultimatum, 
which he was to have done at noon. 

" They're in an awful stew hy this time at 
Yildiz Kiosk, I expect," he said, with a 
certain mischievous relish, rubbing his hands 
the while. He was in the best of humours, 
and could find fault with nothing. 

Suddenly he stopped dead, and quickly 
glanced at his watch, and from his watch to 
me in a questioning way. 

Before I had time to inquire the meaning 
of this performance he ejaculated : " By 
Jove ! Here it is half-past two, and we don't 
seem far down the Sea of Marmora ! I think 
I'll have a look at the chart ! " 

So saying, he walked swiftly to the chart- 

The Commander happened to meet us on 
the fore and aft bridge, and civilly saluted. 

* * Capta i n Thornton/* said the Admiral, 
"will you be good enough to show me our 
present position on the chart? " 

The Commander, slightly surprised at this 
request, led the way into the chart-house, 
where a chart lay spread open on the desk, 
and pointed out our position with a pair of 

The Admiral suddenly became very grave 

" 1 end me your compasses," he said. 

Taking therUj he rapidly measured the 


exact distance between the point the Com- 
mander had indicated and the Island of 
Imbros. It was 150 miles* and I suddenly 
understood the Admiral's discomposure. 

"Thornton," he said, nervously, cutting 
his words off short and sharp like so many 
pistol-shots, as was his wont, u what's the 
utmost speed you can knock out of the 
Imogtm t " 

11 Ei'm— well, fourteen knots, sir, at a 

"The utmost —is that the very utmost she 
can do — even under forced draught?" 

" We might just possibly get a trifle more, 
sir, but I doubt it— in fact, sir, fourteen knots 
is more than I've ever got out of her, :j 

* Good Lord ! n cried the Admiral 
u Harley, we shall ruin everything ! We 
can't get down to the Fleet in time ! Who 
would ever have imagined that one couldn't 
get more than fourteen knots out of a blessed 
ship like this? What the deuce is to be 

" But, sir," said the Commander, not quite 
liking the Admiral to speak thus disparagingly 

ot his vessel, "I don't quite understand- " 

" Look here, sir," interrupted the old 
Admiral, thoroughly exasperated. " Listen 
to me, and by Jove, you jolly well will soon 
understand. We are 150 miles from the 
Fleet, which is a good 
twelve or thirteen hours' 
run, as matters stand. 
I must be with the Fleet 
by daybreak to-morrow, 
for if war is not declared 
even now it will be by 
then, and now I find 
that this wretch of a 
despatch-boat can't do 
it, and that I've been 
ass enough to forget 
such a vital considera- 
tion as the speed of the 
ship which is to take me 
back to my squadron* 
But get there I will, 
somehow 01 other. I ,00k 
here, Harley, can't you 
think of anything? Don't 
stand there in that irri- 
tating way— for goodness 
sake sav something ! " 

"Well, sir," I replied, 
" I haven't got plans all 
cut and dried at a 
moment's notice, hut III 
set iny wits to work. 
Never fear, well find 

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Original from 



some way of getting out of this particularly 
awkward hole." 

" H'm," said he. "See here, something's got 
to be done, Harley. In the meanwhile, 
Captain Thornton, keep her up to the very 
utmost you can get out of her. We'll go and 
smoke a cigar, Harley, and see if we can't 
think out some way of getting through all 
right. » 

And together we descended to the quarter- 
deck again. 

We walked up and down for some time 
discussing all sorts of more or less feasible 
plans. There was another obstacle, too, that 
we had overlooked, a most serious one. 

" Let me see," said the Admiral. " Sun- 
set is at 6 p.m., worse luck. And, by Jove, 
now that I come to think of it, we sha'n't be 
able to get through after subset. What a 
confounded nuisance. They won't allow any 
vessel to go through, you know, between 
sunset and sunrise. What on earth is to be 
done? We can't run the gauntlet of the 
forts in this jimcrack concern, that's certain. 
They fire at you, you know, if you attempt 
to run through." 

As he spoke we turned, and I caught sight 
of our signalman, who had come aft to dip 
the ensign to some passing vessel. Looking 
to see what vessel we were saluting, I saw it 
was a small steamer flying the red flag of 
Turkey. At that instant a brilliant idea 
seized me. 

" Do you see that flag, sir ? " said I to the 

"Yes," he said, drily, "I certainly see it. 
It's the Turkish flag. But what that has to 
do with the matter we're discussing I must 
confess I don't quite see." 

" Well, sir," I responded, " that flag has 
just informed me of a way to get through the 

44 The deuce it has ! " he cried. " How ever 
is that going to get us through ? " 

" Well, sir, it suddenly struck me that, 
although no other vessels are allowed through 
the Dardanelles after sunset, Turkish men-of- 
war are." 

" Harley, you don't for an instant think 
I'm going to sail under that vile rag, do 
you ? No, sir ; I've never sailed under false 
colours as yet, and I'm not going to begin 
now, that's very certain," he added, with a 
touch of truly British pride. 

" But, sir, I've not even hinted at your 
doing so in the least. Nothing could be 
further from my mind. Besides, sir," I 
added, maliciously enjoying his bewilderment 
now that I had found a way out of our 

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difficulty, "vessels don't fly m their colours 
after sunset." 

"Well, then, how on earth do you 
propose " 

44 This is my idea, sir. It's a rather risky 
thing to do — in fact, perhaps you won't relish 
doing it at all " — I knew the grim old sea- 
dog would, though — "but I think we can 
get through with it all the same." 

44 Out with it, man ; don't hang in the wind 
any longer. If it'll get me through, I'll do 
anything— so long as it's not dishonourable." 

44 Do. you remember, sir, that when we 
passed Chanak-Kalesi yesterday there were 
some Turkish torpedo-boats lying at anchor 
under convoy of a sloop ? " 

44 Yes," said the Admiral, as mystified as 

44 Well, I propose to get you aboard one 
of those boats by stealth, surprise the officers 
- they only carry one or two at the utmost — 
and compel them at the point of the sword 
— or, to be literal, at the muzzle of our 
Webley revolvers — to take us down to 
Imbros. The boats can do an easy twenty 
knots an hour, and we shall get there beau- 
tifully in time." 

44 Harley, you're a perfect genius," cried 
the now delighted Admiral. " That's grand," 
he said. " That's one of the best things I've 
heard for many a day. It's glorious. But 
I must say, it'll want some doing. It's a 
rather big order, and a jolly risky thing to 
boot. If we were not on the eve of war with 
Turkey, I don't know that I'd be justified in 
doing it. But as war is only a matter of 
hours how do you propose to get aboard?" 

44 We'll get down the Dardanelles as far as 
we can in this packet, sir, and then drop 
anchor to avoid any unnecessary civilities 
from the forts, and wait till it's pitch dark. 
Then lower a cutter, and take, say, six picked 
men with us, quickly drop down with the 
current to the nearest torpedo-boat, board 
her secretly, surprise the officers before they 
can say 'Jack Robinson,' and the thing is 

44 That will do splendidly," he cried. 

44 All we have to do is to be very careful 
not to fire a shot, and to compel the boat's 
own officers to navigate her, and make her 
number to the forts as we pass, and, voila 

He at once sought the Commander and 
gave him particulars of our plan. The first 
thing to do was to pick out a suitable boat's 
crew to take with us. We did not want 
many men, but those we did take would 
have to be as true as steel, and as the Corn- 
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mander naturally knew his ship's company 
better than we did, we allowed him to choose 
our men. 

Eventually ten were selected, six to go 
with us, the other four to take the cutter 
back to the Imogene^ for we desired to leave 
no trace of our exploit in the shape of a 
drifting man-of-war's boat, which might tell 
awkward tales. 

And a fine, brawny set of fellows they 
looked as • they stood in the deck -saloon 
facing the old Admiral, caps in hand, in 
truly characteristic sailor fashion. Briefly he 
explained to them what we were about to do. 

"Now, my lads," he concluded, "it's a 
risky and a dangerous game we're going to 
play, but it's for the sake of the old flag, and 
I'm sure every one of you will do his utmost. 
I'll look to it that you don't lose by your 
adventure, and that you get proper recom- 
pense. Is there anyone who does not quite 
care to go with us ? " 

A gurgle of respectfully suppressed merri- 
ment ran through the group at his last 
remark. As if these British Tars would not 
board even a dozen Turkish vessels at their 
beloved old Admiral's behest ! 

And then, in response to several nudges 
and whispers, a racy-looking petty officer, 
whose round, cleanshaven face was crossed 
by innumerable tiny wrinkles of good humour, 
took a couple of paces forward, and sheepishly 
fingering his cap, said : — 

"Speakin' on behalf of meself and me 
ship-mates 'ere, sir, I begs to say it won't be 
our fault if you don't get through, sir. We'll 
see that you get to the Fleet in time, sir, if 
there ain't a soul of us left alive to see you 
do it, sir ! " 

" That's the style, lads ! " cried the 
Admiral, rubbing his hands gleefully. " And 
now go and take a glass of grog each from 
the steward, and get ready for the fun to- 

At 6 p.m. we had again passed Gallipoli, 
and the sun was just beginning to sink in the 
west. We dined at 6.30, and intended 
dropping anchor about eight or ten miles 
north of Chanak-Kalesi. No sooner had we 
dined than we were on deck, making our final 
preparations, and anxiously awaiting the time 
of action. \Y T hen the sun had finally dis- 
appeared wc stopped engines. But before the 
rattle of our cable through the hawse-holes 
had time to break upon the hot, still air, there 
came a fat puff of white smoke from a battery 
on the Asiatic side, and a shot plunged down 
jnto the water unpleasantly close to our bows. 

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c< All right, you beggars ! " said the Com- 
mander, " you won't want to waste any more 
ammunition on this packet to-night" 

Even as he spoke our port anchor dropped 
with a great splash, the engines went full 
speed astern, and we came to a dead stop 
right under the shadow of the fort. 

At 8.30 it was pitch dark ; the very night 
for such an enterprise, moon and stars alike 
shrouded behind a thick grey mask of clojd, 
while there was practically no wind, and 
hardly a ripple on the water. We came on 
deck and mustered our little party, while the 
cutter was being silently lowered. Each 
carried a Service revolver, loaded in all its 
chambers, and while the Admiral and myself 
carried the usual Service sword, our men had 
all of them bare cutlasses. 

Thus equipped, we took our places in 
the boat, and with "Good luck and God 
speed to you ! " from the Commander, shoved 
off into the black and silent night. 

I took the tiller, and for some time we 
preserved a dead silence, all our thoughts, all 
our energies, concentrated on one object, 
determined to carry out our project or yield 
our lives in the attempt 

Then the Admiral, unable to bear the 
tension any longer, whispered to me : — 

" Harley, can you see her light ahead ? " 

" Aye, aye, sir," I answered, in a voice 
hoarse and thick with suppressed excitement ; 
" I'm making dead for her stern." 

" Hope they don't keep a very sharp look- 
out," was his next remark. 

" Don't suppose the beggars do, sir," I 
answered. " They're awfully lax in those 
matters, you know, sir, the Turks." 

We were moving swiftly by this time, and 
had left the twinkling lights of the Imogene a 
good distance in our rear. 

Straight ahead lay a torpedo-boat, shrouded 
in a veil of impenetrable blackness, save 
where a solitary anchor-light for'ard betrayed 
her presence. Before leaving the Imogene I 
had told each man exactly what to do. 
"Use cold steel, lads," I had said, "and 
remember that all our lives depend upon 
silence and quick action." 

Gradually we drew near the low round 
stern of the boat, till we were almost in her 
shadow dead astern. 

" Way enough ! " I whispered, and ten 
oars swung silently skywards as one. 

" Boat your oars ! " 

The two bowmen, each with a boat-hook, 
stood by to hang on while we clambered up 
over the torpedo-boat's stern, and the next 
instant we were alongside. 

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The Admiral sprang out with an agility 
wonderful in a man of his years, climbing 
swiftly and silently up the low stem and on 
to the kamptulicon-covered deck, 

I followed, and in a few seconds all eight 
of us had silently gained our positions. 


Not a soul showed on her upper deck, and 
it was almost pitch dark, except where the 
stay-light forward cast a sickly and uncertain 
flicker on her bows, and a faint glow just 
showed us the position of the main-deck 
hatch amidships. 

Four of our men who were to go forward 
crouched low in the shadow of the after- 
hatch cover, while two others, loosing their 
cutlasses, prepared to follow the Admiral and 
myself down into the dogVhole of a cabin 
which did duty as the officers' quarters. 

"Now!" whispered the Admiral, and he 
dropped bodily down the hatchway— a mere 
man-hole just large enough to admit one 
person at a time— into the space below. 

It was a tiny rectangular cabin, with 
cushioned lockers, and a dull and dirty oil- 
lamp giving an uncertain light, 

Stretched out on the cushions were two 
Turkish officers, one already fast asleep ; the 
other rubbing his eyes and yawning as one 
who anticipates a hearty nap. 

We were on them instantly, just as the two 
sailors who followed us dropped down the 

u If you speak a single word you're a dead 
man ! " I fiercely whispered in French to 

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the man who was still awake, giving my 
revolver an ominous click, and holding the 
barrel to his temple. 

The Admiral had awakened the other, and 
gone through the same performance, while 
our two sturdy blue-jackets, cutlass in hand, 

stood blocking up 
the entrance, 

"What — what is 
the meaning of this 
farce ? " asked the 
Admiral's prisoner, 
when he had some- 
what recovered from 
his first surprise. My 
gentleman was not as 
yet capable of speech. 
'■It means, sir," 
said the Admiral, 
watching the effect of 
his words closely, 
" that you are pri- 
soners, and that we 
are desperate men, 
who are not afraid 
to stick at anything 
to attain our object.'' 
He spoke French 
well and fluently, 
and there was not a 
trace of the nervous 
trepidation he had displayed in the cutter. 

" Prisoners ? " said the Turk. " Prisoners 
— who and what are you to take us prisoners?" 
"Who and what we are does not concern 
you," answered the Admiral. "We require 
you to do us a service, a slight enough thing, 
and in return for its performance you shall 
go scot-free, and it will not be our fault if the 
affair is not kept perfectly secret. One thing 
I can assure you : we are honourable men, 
and are not flying from justice, or about to 
commit any crime. But political circumstances 
demand that we get through the Dardanelles 
to-night, and you must do it for us." 
Not a word from either Turk, 
"If you will give me yom parole d'honneur 
you will not attempt any escape, I will release 
you ; but, remember, at the very first sign of 
treachery your brains will decorate the deck, 
man ami" he continued, releasing his man. 

" Now, sit over there, both of you/' he 
said, indicating the locker farthest away from 
the hatch. " And I will tell you what it is 
we ask of you. The British Fleet is lying at 
anchor at a certain island near the mouth of 
the Dardanelles, Do you understand that? 
I must— you understand, must— get to the 
Fleet by early morning. I want you to get 

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your boat under way now at once, and take 
us down through the Dardanelles, making your 
number to the farts as you pass. But beware 
how you attempt to arouse their suspicions, 
for it will mean death. Once you have taken 
us down to the Fleet, you are at perfect 
liberty. You, of course, quite understand 
that if this affair gets to the ears of your 
Government it will mum disgrace to you 
both. Rest assured that no word of ours 
will put you in jeopardy, and your own men 
forward know not that anything has occurred, 
so you run no risk in " 

He was suddenly cut short by the Turkish 
officer springing up from his seat, and, with 
a swinging blow, instantly extinguishing the 
lamp. Then in the sudden darkness that 
followed he sprang at me, and in an instant 
the place was full of silently struggling men. 
So sudden was the onslaught, that he had got 
me fairly before I realized what had occurred. 

Down I went across a locker, and I felt his 
fingers close like a vice upon my throat. 

Use my pistol I dared not, lest the report 
should arouse the crew ; and, besides, we 
did not want our men dead but alive, to steer 
the boat, and so with my right hand tearing 
at his fingers, I madly struggled for a few 
seconds- Then suddenly the grip relaxed, 
and the fellow dropped from mc. One of 
our blue jackets had come to my relief. 

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"Bill, got a st>fferifwt" I heard him 
whisper to his companion. There was a tiny 
splutter, and a match threw its light upon 
the scene. The blue-jacket had got my man 
tight in his arms, while the Admiral was 
calmly kneeling upon the chest of the other, 
who had made but a feeble fight of it My 
Turk, as I noticed for the first time, was a 
remarkably fine-built man, but he was quite 
powerless in the grip of the big blue-jacket, 
and I could not but admire the bold 
dash he had made to turn the tables. As 
for the other, he was a mere apology for 
a man, without an ounce of fight in 

** Messieurs," said my Turk, M you have 
won the game. The odds were too great. 
Allah's will be done. You may command 
us. As for my colleague "—with a glance of 
contempt at him ^ I speak for him as 
well. We will do what you wish. Come, 
Selim, arise : we are conquered," And he 
acex fc )ted the situation with the true stoicism 
of the Oriental. He spoke so convincingly 
that we released them, and the Admiral said, 
" Now s messieurs, will you have the goodness 
to get up anchor and proceed at once? I 
have not a moment to lose, you know. Put 
her to it at full speed, and signal to the fort 
that you are about to patrol the Dardanelles, 
or something— what you will — but remember 

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23 1 

we are behind you with our loaded pistols, 
and shall not scruple to use them." 

|: You need not fear/ 1 said the Turk. " I 
have given you my promise itmv" 

And in front of us they climbed upon decL 
The Admiral remained aft with his prisoner, 
while 1 went forward with the other, who 
gave the order to 
rouse his sleeping 
men and weigh 
anchor. Presently 
the grimy Turkish 
sailors came 
sleepily from 
below, and slowly 
busied themselves 
preparatory to 
getting up the 
anchor. And a 
few moments 
later we stood out 
into the stream. 

The lieutenant 
took the wheel 
himself and set it 
hard over, and 
the frail little 
craft, vibrating in 
every bolt, swung 
round gracefully. 
Just at that 
moment a light 
high up on the 
black rocks above 
us began to flash 
a signal. 

"What is that?" 
I asked, excitedly, 

"Speak the truth, for if you play us false 
you die ! " 

" They are asking who we are/ he said, 
" I will make our number, and give them the 
secret sign." 

He pressed a key, and a light on the 
bridge began to flash familiarly in dots 
and dashes. Evidently his reply was satis- 
factory, for no further sign came from the 

Slowly at first, but with gathering speed, 
the long, lithe craft slipped through J the 
smooth water. Fort after fort challenged us 
with its tiny twinkling signal lights, and was 
always answered by our Turk. 

Standing by him in the tiny shelter that 
represented the conning - tower, pistol in 
hand, I never for a moment relaxed my 
vigilance, and had he shown any disinclina- 
tion to answer the forts en rtgfe, I had no 
doubt that a slight pressure from the cold 

barrel of my " Webley " against his temple 
would induce him to carry out his part of 
the contract 

So the hours passed, the moon coming 
out presently from behind a great black bank 
of clouds^ and flooding the high shore on 
either hand with its brilliant and ethereal 


radiance. I was junt wondering how much 
longer this strange voyage was to last, when 
my silent companion — he had not spoken a 
single word the whole time — pointed with his 
left hand ahead. 

There I could sec the open waters of 
the *4£gean Sea* I drew a deep breath of 
relief and looked at my watch. It was four 
o'clock, and the situation was saved. We 
were through the Dardanelles, 

As we swiftly glided out past the south- 
western extremity, day was just about to 
break, and sea and sky were faintly suffused 
with lovely rose-coloured light. 

I turned to the Turkish officer. 

"Sir/ I said, "you have performed your 
part admirably, Allow me to relieve you at 
the wheel for the remainder of the journey." 

He made no sign to indicate that he 
heard me, but continued calmly gazing ahead 
of him at the rapidly rising sun. 




" Allen ! " I cried, to one of our men, 
"come up and take the wheel, will you?" 

" Aye, aye, sir ! " came cheerily from below, 
as he sprang up the tiny ladder to where 
we stood. 

The Turk silently released the wheel, and 
then, with a glance at me, he suddenly 
left the conning-tower, and walked aft. 

I saw him go down into the after compart- 
ment, and a few seconds later the Admiral 
came up on deck, looking as hearty as ever, 
and as if he had enjoyed a thorough night's 
rest, instead of a weary night in a stuffy little 
sardine box of a torpedo-boat. 

" They've asked me to leave them together 
for a little while, as they wish to proceed 
with their devotions," he said. 

" Hope they won't get up to any mischief, 
sir," said I. 

" I don't think they're likely to do any- 
thing now that we're through," said the 

We were still about twenty miles from the 
Fleet, and thus we could easily get to the 
ship within two hours, which would just 
enable us to get under way at the appointed 

While we were discussing the probable 
turn events would take — we had, of course, 
decided that by this time war was already 
declared — the Turkish lieutenant came on 
deck, and walked forward to where we stood. 

" M'sieu," he said, addressing the Admiral, 
" you are satisfied that I have now done all 
I was in honour bound to do for you ? And 
m'sieu is also quite satisfied that I could 
not help myself; that I did all that lay 
in my power to prevent your capturing my 
vessel — that until I was overpowered, and 
forced to agree to your proposal " 

" Sir," said the Admiral, gravely, <c you 
behaved as a brave man, and we honour you 
accordingly. You made the utmost resistance 
possible under the circumstances, but we were 
four to two, and you could hardly hope to 
overpower us." 

" Then, what has occurred is not disgraceful 
to me— at least, m'sieu," he added, quickly, 
" at least, not in your eyes. And my contract 
is now fulfilled ? " 

" Perfectly," said the Admiral. " Au reste, 
if it should ever become known to them, 
surely your Government will see that you 
acted under coercion." A singular little 
smile flitted across the somewhat saturnine 
countenance of the Turk. 

u Je suis content, m'sieu" he said, " that at 
least you feel that I have not dishonoured 
myself. For I know you are a great English 

Digitized by Gi 

Admiral, riest ce pasl" — the Admiral looked 
surprised — "and will judge the case entirely 
on its own merits," and he bowed cere- 
moniously, and went away aft again. 

" Strange sort of a customer, Harley," said 
the Admiral, when the Turk had disappeared 
down the hatchway. " Wonder why he cross- 
questioned me like that ? One would think 
he wanted us for witnesses at his court- 
martial. He knows me, too ! Must have 
seen my portrait somewhere, I suppose." 

We were very soon to know why he was 
so anxious to set himself right with us. In 
the light of what followed, it would seem that 
he wished to be sure that he had fulfilled his 
agreement with us, as a salve to his conscience 
for the deed he was about to commit. 

We were standing forward, near to the 
conning-tower, and almost under the break 
of the fo'c'sle, leaning against the davits of a 
Berthon collapsible boat, of which the torpedo- 
boat carried two, one forward, the other aft. 
None of the Turkish crew were on deck ; 
probably they were all turned in below ; and 
near us stood all our men, conversing in 
respectfully lowered tones. 

Just then the Turkish officer came on deck 
again, and walked along as far as the funnel 
casings, where he halted and for a moment 
curiously regarded us. "Au revoir, messieurs" 
he said. " Remember that I have done all I 
was bound to do, and have brought you 
through the Dardanelles." 

The Admiral looked inquiringly at me. 
"What on earth does he mean by au revoirl" 
he said. " Does he intend " 

He was cut short by a pistol-shot, followed 
by a loud, deep report like a thunder-clap. 
The deck in front seemed to rise bodily at 
us, followed by a great column of water, and 
we were thrown headlong into the sea, hope- 
lessly entangled, it seemed to me, with the 
boat against whose davits we had just been 
leaning. The Turk, having kept his faith as 
far as he had been required to, had now 
determined to revenge himself for the affront 
we had put upon him, and at the cost of the 
lives of all on board, had exploded the 
torpedo magazine. 

The sudden force of the explosion for an 
instant stunned me, but the plunge restored 
my scattered wits, and I struck out with the 
ease of a practised swimmer — what naval 
officer is not ? — and found to my joy that I 
was uninjured. 

The water, so calm and peaceful a moment 
before, was now filled with wreckage and 
splinters, and the torpedo-boat itself was 
rapidly sinking. It had broken in the centre 

u I I I ■_» I I I 




as it were, and both bows and stern were out 
of water. All this I noted in an instant, 
but could see no sign of a single Turkish 
sailor — they must have gone down to their 
death in their hammocks — while near me was 
the old Admiral, wildly plunging and panting 
and splashing almost at his last gasp. 

A few strokes brought me to his side. 

" The infernal blackguard ! " were his first 
words, as I reached him. " He's blown the 
boat up out of spite ! " 

Quite near us I noticed the canvas boat 
— still collapsed — and several of our men 
making for it If we could get to it and 
open it we were safe for the present, if only 
the explosion had left it intact. I struck out 
wildly, for the sudden thought of a terrible 
danger entered my brain and, for a moment, 
almost unnerved me : what if there were some 
of the sharks which abound in the JEgean 
around us ? But the next instant I was myself 

escaped unharmed, save for a few scratches 
and bruises, which, miraculous as it may 
seem to some, is easily accounted for when 
one bears in mind the invariable effect of 
gun-cotton, with which explosive the torpedo- 
heads were charged. They had, in fact, 
literally blown the bottom of the torpedo- 
boat to pieces, but done little damage else,* 

Before we had been in the boat many 
minutes one — two — three ominous-looki ng 
fins made their appearance close at hand, 
and had we not gained our point of vantage 
just in time, it would have gone hard with us, 
without doubt The Admiral^ although 
devoutly grateful for our providential escape, 
was in no very enviable state of mind. 

After all our plotting and planning, he felt 
it very hard to be thus frustrated at the 
eleventh hour ; for we could certainly not 
get to our destination at the proper time in 
a tiny canvas rowing-boat 


again, alongside the boat, working tooth and 
nail to get her afloat. It was still entangled 
in the davit -falls, but by dint of my frantic 
exertions and those of two of our men who 
had managed to reach it, we eventually got it 
clear, set it afloat, and clambered in. 

The oars and a boat-hook were stowed 
away inside it, and we picked up the other 
three men and Allen, who was supporting 
himself on a fragment of the torpedo-boat's 

" Thank God ! " fervently ejaculated the 
Admiral, when we were in safety. "We are 
all here, are we not? Is anyone hurt ?" 

A rapid examination proved that we had 

Digitized by GQOgl^ 

11 We must be a good fifteen miles away," 
he cried. " I caiVt get to the Fleet in time ! 
We don't even know the course to steer! 
If only we had a compass ! " 

* It wa& related to me by Mr. A> J. Cox, Chief Torpedo 
Instructor R.N"., now serving in ihe Channel Fleet, and 'vho 
was the only survivor of a party of men concerned in 'he 
explosion on board H.M.S. JW*,at Hourdroum, in the levant, 
in June + 1802, when a gun -cotton charge exploded through 
cardessnesj :n fitting a detonator, that he was only three or 
four feet away when the accident occurred, and that he 
suffered no injury beyond being knocked down tbe ladder on 
which he was standi ng by the air concussion— but, then, he was 
in an open air space, while the two men who tost their lives 
were in a confined space, and thus felt tbe full explosive force of 
the charge, The weaker portion* of the ship at that point 
were comparative^ uninjured, but the heavy armoured door 
and the mil kneading close by were severely twisted and 
dented : the explosive, as ts the case with most of the niiro- 
glyccrinc compounds, doing the most damage at the points of 
greatest resistance— Gil debt Hekom, 




One of our men, overhearing him, said 
something in a whisper to his companion, 
and I just managed to catch the word 
" compass," 

M What is it, my man ? " I asked. 

** Bill 'ere, sir, sez 'e's got a compass on a 
watch-chain, sir, if thafd be of any use." 

I jumped at the opportune chance, 

" Rather ! Hand it over, my man, and 
let me have a look at it ! " 

He dived into his jumper pocket, and from 
a miscellaneous collection of matches, spun 
yarn, clay pipes, quids of ancient tobacco, 
and half-a-dozen other articles, selected a 
dingy watch-chain, with a tiny pocket-compass 

** Thank goodness ! n said the Admiral, for 
toy though it was, it would give us our bear- 
ings. tf Now, men, out oars and pull ! " 

We got the course, and put the boat's head 
N.\V\ by N\ Tired after a sleepless night, 
hungry, sore, wet through to tin* skin, these 
truly British sons of Neptune had vowed to 
get their Admiral to his Fleet in time, and 
they set to with such good will that soon we 
were bowling along at four knots an hour. 
Luckily there was no wind, and the water 
was as calm as a mill-pond. For a good 
hour we held on, and then on the sky- 
line astern we caught sight of a long, low 
streak of black, out of which gradually 
grew the masts and hull of some small war- 

We decided to signal her, and hoisted one 

of the men's flannels on the loom of an oar 
to attract their attention. 

Nearer and nearer came the vessel, and 
presently a tiny puff of smoke, followed by a 
sharp report, told us that she had seen us. 

"Great Scot! She's a British gunboat, 
sir !" I cried, recognising the Dryad m the 
now rapidly approaching vessel. 

And the Dryad she proved to be, and no 
sooner had we got aboard and explained 
matters, than we found that Fortune had not 
altogether deserted us, after all. 

For she was the bearer of new and im- 
portant orders to Admiral Stanhope, and 
it was indeed most fortunate that chance 
had prevented our gaining the Fleet before. 
The news she brought was the now historical 
departure of Prince George of Greece for 
Crete, with his flotilla of torpedo-boats, in 
consequence of which the British Govern- 
ment had hastily countermanded the orders 
given the Ambassador, and decided to act 
with the Powers ; for the time being, at all 
events. Instead of forcing the Dardanelles 
we were to at once proceed to Canea, send- 
ing a few ships to the Piraeus in case of a 
blockade being decided on there, If the 
Admiral had got back in time T and opened 
fire on the Turkish Rag, we should have found 
ourselves in a very awkward predicament. 

How the Fleet carried out the new orders, 
and with what result, the world knows, 
But who shall say what might not have 
resulted, but for the Admiral's Misadventure? 


by Google 

Original from 

A Metal Balloon, 

By James Walter Smith. 

T was invented by a man 
named Schwarz, who did not 
live to see his balloon success- 
ful. Scientists laughed at 
Schwarz for saying that a metal 
balloon would he able to lift 

itself, with its motor and car, off the ground, 

and the military men who carry on the 

balloon practice of the German Army on the 

Tempelhof Field, near Berlin, agreed with the 

scientists that the aluminium balloon was a 

phantasy of disordered imagination. But 

the inventor was not to be turned from his 

project. He worked 

on it, developed it, 

clung to it ten- 
aciously until death 

overtook him, leav- 
ing the inventor's 

wife to carry on 

the fight against 

the sceptics. Had 

Schwarz lived he 

would have seen 

his theories win 

the day. 

That, in brief, is 

the story of the 

aluminium balloon 

— the curious 

creature of the air 

which, as is shown 

on this page, 

floated high above 

the chimney-pots 

near the Tempel- 

hof Field on the 

3rd of November last 

balloon made of metal 

said, no new thing, for 

THE ALUMlffrrtt UAt.MH'lti IN" THE Alt* 
Fr'am a Phctoffraph. 

The idea of a 

was, it must be 

in 1842 a madcap 

Frenchman named Mares- Monges constructed 
a balloon of thin sheets of copper. It was a 
fine piece of workmanship, but it would not 
go up in the air, and its short life on earth 
was ended in the scrap-heap. The failure of 
Mares-Monges gave strength to the belief 
that a metal balloon was a dream and 
nothing more. 

With the increasing cheapness, however, 
of that extraordinarily light metal, aluminium, mum the shock of landing 

nnoli 4 Original from 


owing to the discovery of cheaper methods 
of production, a hope was raised in the 
breasts of inventors that the metal balloon 
was a possibility, Schwarz, of Agram, was 
one of these men, and having evolved, 
among other things, a method of filling a 
metal balloon with gas — which up to this 
time had been one of the difficulties in the 
way — he prepared to put his idea before the 
public, amid the discouragements already 

The German Government, which takes a 
keen interest in all aeronautic ventures and 

inventions, and 
never refuses to 
try an experiment, 
no matter how 
wild the project 
seems to be, finally 
lent a hand, and 
began to construct 
the balloon. The 
work was inter- 
rupted by the in- 
ventor's death, but 
the widow suc- 
ceeded in obtain- 
ing permission to 
complete it. The 
Minister of War 
gave orders that 
the work should 
be done under 
military protection, 
and that the offi- 
cers of the depart- 
ment should aid 
Mrs. Schwarz in every possible way. 

This was not the first time in the history 
of the world that men were engaged on a 
job in which they had no faith. Therefore, 
believing as they did that the balloon would 
not be able to raise itself, to say nothing of the 
motor and passengers, from the ground, they 
cut away all the apparatus that to them seemed 
superfluous, There was, for instance, a 
clever device for regulating the descent of the 
balloon ; and another for lengthening the 
four feet of the car in order to reduce to a mini- 
Bath of these 



Prvm a\ 


[J*hQtQpr<tyA r 

devices were done away with, as adding 
to the weight of the ship. Another 
arrangement employed by the inventor for 
securing the driving belt for the wind 
propellor was also sacrificed— a sacrifice 
which, as we shall see in a moment, was 
most disastrous. The balloon was operated 
by four screws, two for horizontal movement 
and two for vertical movement, run by a 
benzine motor of 10-13 horse-power. The 
ship, as shown in the illustrations, was an 
immense cylinder with cone-shaped end. 
The dimensions were colossal, the body of 
the ship being 134ft, long, 46ft, high, and 
42ft. yin. wide, Yet, notwithstanding the 
size, the weight of the whole was only 

merits which marked the history of the 
Schwarz balloon, notwithstanding the help 
lent hy the military servants of the German 
Government The completion of the air- 
ship, however, and the final arrangements for 
a trial trip, threw discouragement into the 
shadow, and lent a rosy tint to the hopes 
of the inventor's wife. She was the only 
one who knew that the monster air- ship, 
with its silvery cylinder, would do the work 
for which it was intended, and it may be 
believed that the first two days of November, 
while the balloon was being filled, were to 
her days of excitement and weary waiting 
for victory. 

It was necessary, in filling the balloon, that 

From a\ 



5,72olbs. With the mere exception of the 
driving-belt and the brass bearings, the whole 
ship was made of aluminium, 

No one probably, except the inventor and 
his wife, will ever know of the discourage- 

Digitized by Google 

all the air should be expelled from the 
aluminium cylinder before the gas was 
injected; and this operation was completed 
by a peculiar arrangement of Schwarz's own. 
A colossal silk receptacle, the size of the 
Original from 



*S 7 

cylinder, was constructed, and this was placed 
inside the cylinder, the hydrogen gas being 
slowly pumped into the silk bag. As this bag 
expanded it gradually expelled the surround- 
ing air from the cylinder, and when all the 

noon was chill and drear. But, as there is 
an end to all things, so was there an end to 
all these preparations— and to the balloon. 
The supreme moment came when this 
enormous, ugly-looking, and maligned air- 

air was driven out, the gas in the silk bag was 
allowed to escape into the outer receptacle. 

The inflation, if such It might be called, of 
the aluminium balloon, was one of the last 
stages in the preparation for ascent from the 
Luftschiffer Park, and as the moment 
approached for the trial trip the excitement 
was intense. Already, by its vain efforts to 
get free from the ropes which held it to the 
ground, the balloon showed that the inventor 
was right and his critics wrong, Herr Jagels, 
the engineer under whose charge the machine 
had been built, although not an experienced 
aeronaut, offered to make the ascent — a 
plucky offer, considering the feeling against 
the balloon, and the fact that more than 
one man was necessary to attend to the 
steering and propelling apparatus — and 
took his seat in the car. The presence 
of an east wind did not add to the 
pleasure of the occasion, and the after^ 


ship, which had cost two hundred thousand 
marks and four years' labour, was to be let 
loose in the heavens, with its solitary passenger, 
and the hopes of a dead inventor imbedded 
in every lamina of its glossy surface. 

Such a work as this should have had a 
long life. But it was not to he. Amid the 
silence of the crowd it was let loose, and, 
in spite of the enormous surface which it 
presented to the wind, it rose with great 
speed. The motor was working at half 
speed, yet in less time than it takes to tell 
it, the balloon was at the height of 820ft, 
fighting against a strong wind, and ready to 
start forward on its trip above Berlin. Below, 
the spectators wondered how far the balloon 
would go, and the military men wondered 
why they had thought it wouldn't go at all 

Then came the end. Instead of going 
forward the balloon began to fall. The ship 
had become unmanageable. A belt had 

jPitjib a} 



Original from 




slipped — the driving-belt which Schwarz had 
planned to secure to the wind propeller — 
and the inexperienced aeronaut in charge lost 
his head, Had he operated the end screw 
alone he would have been able to sail along 
with the wind, as in an ordinary balloon ; but 
the multiplicity of apparatus, which should 
have been in the charge of several men, 
confused him. It was an awful moment for 
Jagels, In that moment he opened wide 
the valve, and the balloon began its down- 
ward trip to destruction. 

The absence of the device for regulating 
the descent, and the need of the apparatus 
for breaking the force of the fall, were among 
the causes of the disaster* The crash of the 
ship upon the ground was great, and Jagels 
saved his life by jumping out of the car just 
as it reached the earth, getting little more 
than a shaking-up. He had been six minutes 
in the sky, and at the end of his brief trip 
stood alive amidst the wreck of j£io,qoo. 

The newspapers, of course, were full of 
accounts of the disaster, and people thought 

calculation proved, In a few days, that 
Schwarz was greater than those who laughed 
at him. It was demonstrated that the balloon 
was not only fully able to carry its own car 
and motor, but was also able to carry all the 
parts which the engineers had considered 
superfluous, as well as three or four passengers 
and ballast The inventor's calculations were, 
in short, correct The trial trip also proved 
that Schwarz knew how to fill his balloon, 
and that the apparatus could be controlled by 
the proper number of men. It was, indeed, a 
victory, and the inventor's wife, as she stood 
looking at the wreck of the aluminium balloon, 
must have felt that the triumph was worth 
the price. 

The wreck lay some time in the field where 
it fell T as we may see in the illustrations, 
slowly crumbling into bits, which the curiosity- 
seekers were not loth to take away. And 
while the winds were playing with their 
victim, the German Government were making 
arrangements for the immediate construction 
of another Schwarz balloon. The trial had 

From a | 


I r.'.-. '<«:;>-!/.. 'i. 

that the last had been heard of the Schwarz 
balloon. They jumped at the conclusion 
that such a disaster meant the wreck of 
Schwarz 5 s theories. But in this they were 
mistaken. Careful and expert thought and 

shown them that a metal balloon was possible, 
and the experts now think that the aluminium 
balloon is the military air-ship of the future. 
To this a certain happy woman in Berlin 
says " Aye," 


Original from 

For the Boy's Sake. 


WAS staying at the inn of 
"The Three Stars" in the 
village of Disjoles. My hosts 
were a refined and intelligent 
couple of middle age, always 
placid, always smiling and 
courteous, their hearts bound up in their 
son Victor. They were very solicitous about 
" monsieur's " comfort, and liked to hear 
from him about " Angleterre." We are a 
droll people in the eyes of Victor Verreau 
and madame his wife ; and, although they 
are too polite to say so, I have heard them 
repeating my little stories of English life to 
their neighbours with grimaces and shrugs. 
/ am not droll ; I am supposed to have 
rubbed off some of the angularities of 
Messieurs les Anglais by contact with the 
people of Gaul. 

Victor, the son, was then serving with his 
regiment in Madagascar, and talk about the 
boy led my host to tell me the following 
story one evening after supper, when all the 
customers were gone. 

" Ah, little Victor," said my host, with a 
sigh, " I never thought he would bear arms 
for his country. For we thought he was 
dying in the terrible year of the war ; and as 
for me— well, my wife was near being left 
alone," he added, with a little laugh. 

Now, he had told me many stories, and 
when he laughed and leaned back in his 
chair, and blew the smoke in great puffs at 
the ceiling, I knew there was a story if I 
would only ask for it. 

" My friend," I said, reproachfully, " you 
have told me many stories, but you have not 
told me that story about yourself." 

" Oh, it is nothing, monsieur ; just a little 

" Come," I said, " let me be judge of that" 

He laughed again. " As you please." 
And emptying his glass he began :— 

" I was a young man when the war broke 
out, and had only been married five years. 
We were living at Vimagne then, and I 
assisted my father, who owned a small vine- 
yard. We were accounted well-to-do, and 
my wife was the prettiest girl in the neigh- 
bourhood. We were very happy ; as you 
see, she has a sunny temper and can manage 

Vol. xv.— 37. 

by Google 

a house. Our marriage was quite a romance 
— but I will proceed with my story. 

" Our son was born to us before the first 
anniversary of our marriage — little Victor, 
who is now so far away. He was a beautiful 
child, and we both loved him ; nay, almost 
worshipped him. I strode proudly along at 
the thought of Marie's pretty face, with Victor 
in her arms, awaiting me. Yes, we were 
happy. For five years we were very happy. 
But then came the war. You know how 
confident we were. I had no misgivings. I 
prophesied how we should overrun Prussia, 
and in so many weeks the Emperor would be 
dictating terms of peace to the perfidious 
enemy in Berlin. I was aghast when the first 
disaster came, and the Prussians marched 
forward instead of fleeing. I would not 
believe it ; it was but a ruse, I declared, on 
the part of the Emperor, to entice the enemy 
forward, so as to annihilate him at one swoop. 

" I was beside myself in rage and shame 
when, after several battles, I saw that we were 
a beaten nation. I would go to Paris, I said, 
and enrol myself in the army ; but there came 
a letter from my life-long friend, Jacques 
Lessurrier, of Lyons, asking me, if I loved 
France, to raise a body of Francs-tireurs in our 
district and take command of them. It was 
being done all over France, he said, and 
would harass the enemy greatly. Besides, of 
what use was it for a man to serve under our 
incompetent generals ? 

" I did not hesitate. I was popular in our 
district, and, besides, I was prosperous ; and 
when I called a meeting, nearly forty enrolled 
themselves, and with one voice named me 
captain. We were nearly all young fellows, 
for I foresaw that if we were to be effective, 
we must be able to endure great privations 
and fatigue — to strike a blow here to-day, and 
to-morrow to be fighting fifteen or twenty 
miles away. 

" I had hardly time to drill and organize 
my men, when the Prussians came into the 
neighbourhood, and a regiment was quartered 
in our village. Soon our blood was boiling 
at the stories of their brutality and cruelty to 
the defenceless villagers. 

" Of course, as Francs-tireurs we could 
expect no mercy if we were taken, and I 

Original from 



forbade my comrades to risk themselves save 
when there was a chance to strike a shrewd 
blow* And shrewd blows we did strike. For 
a time we harassed the foe daily and almost 
hourly. Sometimes in the night we would 
raise an alarm in one village and attack the 
unprepared enemy in the next The poor 
Prussians "—with a laugh—" did not get 
much sleep some nights. Of course, we did 
not come off scatheless. One week our band 
was less by eleven; Jean Joly and Pierre 
Lochaise were captured one night and shot ; 
the next day in a skirmish we had three 
killed and two badly wounded But they 
were amply avenged, I must tell you another 
time of the troop of 
Uhlans we annihi- 
lated in the ravine 
in Croise Forest* 
You will understand 
that we had devoted 
helpers in the vil- 
lages who supplied 
us with food, having 
managed to hide 
some of their stores 
from the Germans, 
Alas ! — sometimes 
our friends had fo 
suffer, for revenge 
was taken on them 
for our acts. Pierre, 
the miller of Agence, 

was shot because 

But 1 will not re- 
member these things. 
"Dame Bee, a 
little withered old 
woman, used to 
bring us news from 
the village, The 
Prussians took no 
notice of the feeble 
old creature who 
went daily into the 
wood to gather 

sticks, and she came to us almost every 
day. One morning I received news which 
you will understand made me very sad. 
My little Victor was ill — very ill — and he 
continually called for his papa. You will 
understand that I had not seen wife or child 
for nearly a month, for the Prussians in the 
village had suffered from us, and were ever 
on the alert. I was sorely troubled, for 
it would have been madness to attempt to 
see him, and for the first time my heart was 
not wholly in my duties, I sent a message 
to my wife telling her to be of good cheer ; 

CK EAT UHE, 1 ' 

by \j*C 


and to comfort our little Victor by telling 
him that papa would come and bring him a 
gun and drum when the Prussian dogs were 

" I did not sleep at all that night, and my 
burden was no lighter in the morning when 
Dame Bee came again. My Victor was 
worse, and he raved incessantly for his papa. 
All day long he was crying, ' I want my 
papa ; come to Victor, papa.' 

" My comrades saw my trouble and 
sympathized with me. They were prepared 
to do anything for me, ready to sacrifice 
themselves for my sake- Ah, we were 
brothers ! But I would allow no rash 

attempt; I could 
only pray to Heaven 
to be merciful 

"Dame Bee 
brought us news 
that the Prussians 
had learnt who I 
was and the true 
state of affairs ; and 
the Colonel — he was 
a brute— posted sen- 
tries night and day 
about my door to 
capture me if I ven- 
tured to see my child 
by stealth. Ah s they 
were cunning, and 
meant to entrap me 
through the love I 
had for my child, for 
they had learnt that 
I was chief of the 
band that had 
harassed them so 

" A sad week 
passed, and then 
came heavier tidings. 
The fever had left 
my little boy, but he 
was very weak, and 
he cried incessantly for his 'papa,' * If the 
child cm not be gratified/ said gruff but kind 
Dr. Bonmain, 'he cannot live. He is very 
ill, and the sight of his father might save 

"My heart ached My child was dying, 
and if he went my wife's heart would break, 
and what should I do? He was our only 

4 * I went apart to think, and I came to 
a decision. It meant the risk of death, but 
then I faced death daily. 

" I left my comrades at dusk, saying I was 

Original from 



going to reconnoitre alone, and with a prayer 
in my heart I hastened through the woods, 
carrying only a dagger, and crept near to 
my house. I must explain that it stood 
alone at the entrance to the village, quite 
fifty yards from a neighbour's. 

M It was even as old I tame Bee had said, 
A Prussian was marching round the house, 
and another was posted in the road twenty 
paces off. Upstairs in the lighted room 
lay little Victor, and I fancied 1 could hear 
his feeble little cry, i Come to Victor, papa.' 

" I crouched for some minutes, wondering 
if it were possible to kill the sentry, but I 
saw that it could not be done without his 
comrade in the road hearing, and 
giving the alarm, 

"Suddenly, moved by a reckless 
impulse, and caring for nothing if 
I could but see my little Victor, I 
rose up and walked straight to the 
side door, 

" In an instant the sentry was on 
me. He was a grizzled veteran— a 
sergeant. I made no reply to his 
challenge. 'Who goes there? 1 he 
asked, in barbarous French, speak- 
ing it with difficulty. 

"Half measures were useless ; 
and, besides, I was reckless, and J 
answered boldly. * I am Victor 
Verreau,' I said, 'and, as you 
know, my son is dying, and calling 
for me. Permit me to go in, mon- 
sieur, and then you can do as you 
please. He is my only son, mon- 

" He stood looking at me for 
quite a minute, as if he could not 
comprehend. Then he peered 
suspiciously into my face. * Where 
have you posted your men ? J 

■* * I have left them in camp, 
monsieur; I came alone,' I re- 

II He stared again, clutching roughly at his 

" ' Where are your weapons ? J 

II I handed hirn the dagger without a word, 
He took it in silence, and stood as before, 
clutching his beard. 

M * He is my only son, monsieur,' I said, 
softly, seeking to stir his pity. 

(il It is well, 5 he said, suddenly. l Go in 
quietly ; but, remember, I shall deal with 
you when you have seen him. You cannot 
escape. 3 

" I thanked him, and went in. My wife 
heard my entrance, and met me with tears 

of gladness, I kissed her, and asked for the 
little one. 

M * He still calls for you, but, oh, so feebly, 
so feebly ! ' she said, with tears. 

* £ She took me into the little chamber 
where my boy lay. 4 Look, my darling/ she 
said ; and my boy feebly turned his eyes, 
and then with a glad cry flung himself into 
my arms. I wept ; my wife wept. * My 
dear papa, 1 he said, again and again, stroking 
me softly and looking into my face. 

"Presently my wife whispered, i Thanks to 
Heaven, he is better already.' 

11 1 talked to him, and told him I was 
hunting in the fields, and could not come to 

by Google 


see him because of the Prussians, but he 
must get well and strong and help me to 
drive them away. 'Yes/ he laughed; and 
soon fell asleep in my arms. 

tfc I kissed him and put him gently on the 
bed, stifling a sob, as I thought it was for the 
last time, and turned to my wife. It had not 
occurred to her until then to ask how I had 
got in. I told her I had bribed the Prussian 
for a five minutes' interview, and now I must 
go at once. I kissed her passionately, keep- 
ing with difficulty a cheerful countenance, 
and I prayed that the boy might comfort her 
when 1 was gone. Before midnight — pouf ! 

Original from 



pouf! there would be a splutter of bullets, 
and I should be gone, 

M I sent her to the little one and opened 
the door. The Prussian was waiting for me; 

u * I am ready/ I said, with an effort 
to speak calmly ; < but make no noise or my 
wife will hear. She does not know. 1 

"He stood 
looking at me as 
before, * Better?' 
he grunted, point- 
ing to the lighted 

"'Yes,' I re- 
plied, 'it has 
done him good. 
He will live now, 
I do not doubt ! T 

"He did not 
speak nor, to my 
surprise, did he 
lay hold of me. 
We stood in 
silence looking 
into each other's 

" ' Monsieur/ 
he whispered at 
last, ' begone, 
quietly. I —too 
— have — a son/ 

"I stood 
amazed. ' I— I 
do not under- 
stand/ I stam- 

" * Begone, you 
fool/ he whis- 
pered, fiercely* 
4 Quick!' 

11 Then I com- 
prehended, and 
took his hand. 

" ' God bless you/ I said 
name ? ' 

" ' Begone, fool— Steinkopf' 

" I fled back to the wood as one in a 
dream. I had never expected to find a 
Prussian with a tender heart, and I wept tears 
of gladness, as I invoked the blessing of 
Heaven on Herr Steinkopf, who likewise had 
a son. 

" I went back to my comrades and told 
them all, 'Now, comrades/ I said, if you 
love me you will spare, if you meet him, 
Sergeant Steinkopf, who has a son.' They 
promised gladly, for you must understand 
that, brave fellows that they were, they had 
the hearts of children, 


1 Tel! me your 

by Google 

"We rejoiced greatly when Dame Bee 
came the next day. * The little one is much 
better and will recover/ said she. 'Ah, it 
was a mi nide — for we know all But that 
poor Prussian who let you in — he was seen 
and arrested, and, poor fellow, he dies at 
sunset His Colonel is furious/ 

"I turned 
pale; I trembled. 
I never dreamt 
that danger 
would threaten 
h i m . I w e n t 
apart to think, 
and considered 
the matter for a 
good while. I 
had to struggle 
with myself. 
What could an 
Frenchman do? 
There was only 
one answer. 

"An hour later 
I walked up to 
the Colonel's 

" I was seized 
and taken before 
him — no, I will 
not mention his 
name ; let it be 
forgotten, A 
little man with 
cruel eyes and 
iron jaws— I well 
understood that 
he had no pity. 
I told him why 
I had come. 
* Sergeant Stein- 
kopf did a hu- 
mane deed, a noble action/ I said, *he ought 
not to suffer, If there must be a victim, I 
offer myself in his stead.' 

"The brute laughed harshly. 'You will 
get your deserts, and Steinkopf too/ he said 
1 You are a fool as well as a rascal/ 

"A court-martial was formed, and I was 
tried. They were not all like the Colonel, 
but listened to what I had to say. I pleaded 
fur myself, hut more for Steinkopf, and some 
of them were touched. But they were m the 
hands of the Colonel- -I was condemned to 
tic shot with Steinkopf. 

( * 'At five o'clock,' said the Colonel, with 
a laugh, * that we may have the mess cleared 
up before dark/ 

Original from 



11 Imagine the brutality of that man ! Arid 
imagine also that I asked to embrace my 
wife and child for the last time, and was 
refused I 

li A few minutes before five I was led into 
the garden of the Matre's house, where 
presently Stdnkopf was brought. He was a 
brave man ; he walked erect and proudly, 
without fear ; hut when he saw me he 
whispered, * You fool ! you fool ! r in a hoarse 
voice, though I 
read in his eyes 
that he approved 
of what I had 
done, I took his 
hand in silence, 
and we took up 
our position. I 
saw in the faces 
of the firing-party 
how little they 
liked their task, 
Steinkopf was 
popular among 
them — a rough, 
coarse gem he 
was, but still a 

" We had taken 
our places, and 
were waiting for 
the Colonel, when 
suddenly there 
was a clatter on 
the road outside, 
and someone 
whispered, * His 
Highness Prince 
Frederick. 1 

" The Colonel 
was just coming 
forward. When 
he heard the cry 
his face turned 
purple, and he 
cursed vilely 
under his breath 

honey in his mouth. Faugh ! * Spies, your 
Highness/ he said 

wl Indeed!* said the Prince, 'But that 
uniform,' pointing to Steinkopf, * surely he is 
not a spy ? J 

" And then I spoke. I expected no mercy 
for myself — I was a Franc tireur — but that 
good Steinkopf should not die, I rushed 
forward and knelt at his feet. 

" ' Hear me, Prince, 1 I cried. 

as the Prince 
advanced. The 

Prince was a Prussian, but he was a gentle- 
man, I understand that you English loved 
him. It is well ; lie was worthy of it We 
did not know till later that one of Steinkopf + s 
fellow -soldiers had sent a message to him 
beseech ing mercy for his comrade. 

" He returned the Colonel's salute gravely, 
and said, sharply, 4 Ah, Colonel, what have 
we here ? ' 

"The Colonel was fawning like a dog, all 


by Google 

" The Colonel would have had me dragged 
away, but the Prince signed to them to let 
me alone, 

fct I told the story breathlessly — so breath- 
lessly that he stopped me and begged me to 
be calm, as he could not follow me. * It is 
not for myself,' I cried, in conclusion ; * you 
Prussians look upon a man who fights for his 
country as vermin to be killed without pity. 
But this Steinkopf — does he deserve death 




for having pity on me, because he too has a 
son ? ' 

"The Prince did not answer, but called 
Steinkopf forward. * Is this true ? ' he asked, 

4k l Yes, your Highness/ said the sergeant, 
gruffly, saluting. 

** * Is it a Prussian soldier's duty to allow 
his enemies to escape ? ' asked the Prince, 
more sternly. 

11 i My Prince/ said Steinkopf, looking him 
full in the face, ' a good soldier ought to be 
humane. 1 

11 i Right, Steinkopf, right, my good fellow/ 
said the Prince, with a proud smile, placing 
his hand on his shoulder, ( A man who 
faces death in the cause of humanity is 
worthy of honour. Is it not so, Colonel?' 
And he took the 
Cross from his 
breast and 
pinned it upon 
Steinkopf s, 'So 
that your son 
may not forget 
that his father 
was a true sol- 
dier,' he said, 
with a smile. 
And the men 
cheered like mad. 

"'And you/ 
said the Prince, 
sternly, turning 
to me, * you are 
released on con- 
dition that you 
either return 
home or serve in 

the regular army. We do not recognise the 
Francs-tireurs, Often they are only bands of 

"I would not argue with him— it was not 
the time. I said 1 would go to Paris and 
serve in the army, if it were allowed, 

14 £ That is well/ he said ; and then, with 
a smile, he added: 'And I have to thank 
you for letting me know the worth of one of 
my soldiers. Thank you, You may go.' 
And he shook me by the hand. 

"You wilt not think me weak when I say 
that I kissed his hand in gratitude- Truly, 
he was a gentleman ! 

** As you know, I went to Paris and saw 
the Investment and the Commune, Poor 
Steinkopf, I heard afterwards, was killed 

during the In- 
vestment, and I 
mourned for him 
sincerely. Ah, 
when I think of 
the Prussians and 
that hateful time, 
and my anger 
rises against 
them as brutes 
and tyrants, I 
remember that 
Prince^and brave 
a n d humane 
Steinkopf, who 
had a son ; and 
my heart softens* 
It would be a 
heart of stone 
otherwise — eh, 


f^ru"*nL" fc Original from 


Old Jest - Books. 

Cambridge Jests: 


Wit's Recreation. 

T has never been settled who 
made the first joke ; indeed, it 
is by no means easy to be 
certain who first made any 
joke. Joking has been in 
practice many thousands of 
years now, but we seem to have invented very 
few new " wheezes.'' (The word " wheeze," 
by the way, is probably used in allusion to 
the aged and broken-winded character of the 
jests it is designed to distinguish.) A gentle- 
man called Hierocles, who conducted a 
respectable business as neoplatonic philo- 
sopher in the fifth century, is said to have 
made exhaustive researches into the origins 
and relations of the jokes extant in his 
time. After years 
of sifting, coinpar- 
ing j and tracing, he 
reduced all these 
to an original 
twenty-one, which 
had been repeated 
and repeated, with 
variations and 
changes of place 
and circumstance, 
in a thousand 
varied forms for 
thousands of years. 
Those twenty-one 
jokes are still going 
strong and . well, 
and at this moment 
a thousand scissors 
in the hands of a 
thousand sub- 
editors are slashing 
them out in their 
latest forms from 
a thousand copies 
of American 
papers, shortly, by 
the aid of a thou- 
sand paste- brushes 
and a swarm of 
printing machines, 
to be presented to 
millions of de- 
lighted readers ever 
alert for the Litest 
and freshest jape. 

In their early forms— Greek, Hindu, and 
so forth — these jokes are, when comprehen- 
sible, a trifle dull, not to say sad. Indeed, 
they have the two faults that characterized 
the horse in the ancient story (paleolithic, 
probably) : they are difficult to capture, and 

C<4* ** fi n * r****\ Vitf J** *w f**d mttre tfit m 

^^^m^^^^^^W^^^^^S^^ I 1 

t^ * STSr T i 

A ... .. 2 ft 


l^s^f ft ^P=^j?M iff yffi/\)fiBj^ M P \\^ I Pi P L'^""jf -l-"- 


MMF ■» y*iy ippMMB 

Jgs^^^Sft^riPW^ V^^4^_ 

MewcaflU. printed In thi» pccfeot Y«r, 

by Google 

not worth the trouble when caught But 
among the jest-books of our own earlier 
times we come upon them — and perhaps 
others ; we won't bind ourselves to the 
twenty-one dogma — in a more understandable 
habit, though often dull enough even then, 

Old English jest-books are now rarities, and 
valuable. Whether it be that they were 
actually thumbed out of existence, as one 
authority holds, or whether many were 
burned by the laughter-hating Puritans, 
the fact remains that few, very few, have 
struggled through the centuries to our own 
time ; and when one of these few is for sale, 
it is apt— in especial cases, at any rate — to 
cost its weight in hank -notes* But they 

were shocking 
humbugs in their 
time, some of 
them. Each con- 
sisted, more or 
less, of shameless 
thefts from all the 
others ; and it is 
easy to trace 
through dozens of 
them the same 
merry (or misera- 
ble) jest — a jest as 
oftim as not in- 
vented again last 
week by guidance 
of the sub-editorial 
machinery already 
parti cularized. 
Some were called 
after famous 
clowns or jesters 
— as Tarlton's, 
Armstrong's, or 
Peele's jests, by 
reason of these 
worthies never 
having had any- 
thing to do with 
one of them, 
books or jests. In 
much the same 
manner was the 
title given to one 
of the most fa- 
mous of them — 
the " Cambridge Jests " — probably because 
it was published at Newcastle, We give a 
facsimile of the title-page of this book — a 
thing of some humour in itself. It is embel- 
lished with a view of Cambridge, a view 
instantly to be recognised by anybody 

Original from 




acquainted with the town 
and colleges ■ for all the 
weathercocks are at the top 
of the buildings, just as 
they are in Cambridge to 
this day ; and the steeples 
am all buik with the thick 
end downward, a time- 
honoured characteristic of 
all Cambridge steeples. 
The publisher was a wily 
person, ever awake to catch 
the purchaser who insisted 
on being up-to-date. For 
which reason he avoided 
definite figures, and with 
the announcement "printed 
in this present year " was 
ready to please all cus- 
tomers, no matter how 
long the stock might lie on 
his hands. 

Why should Oxford wait? 
The sister University must 
have its jest-book too, so 
in 162H (much less wily, 
this definite date) "Gratfce 
Ludentes, jests from the 
Universitie, By H. L* 

Gratta Ludentes. * 

1ESTS, 1 



By n. I. oxt*. 


Printed irlfindon 

Hnqbrv totjif. 1 fit. 


Oxen," was printed by 
Thomas Cotts for Hum- 
phrey Mosley — not at 
Oxford, of course, but at 
] .ondon. Vie give a repro- 
duction of the title-page. 
The Latin title and the 
quotation from Martial 
give the proper Oxford air, 
however^ and a ponderous 
cloaked and booted Mer- 
cury occupies half the 
space, flattening the world, 
an inconsiderable pudding, 
beneath his tread. Open- 
ing the book at pages 34 
and 35 we give a photo- 
graph of the text, com- 
prising two anecdotes of 
Diogenes and one of a 
clumsy reader. The joke 
of the bad shot, and the 
only safe place being at the 
target, is as hard -worked 
as ever to-day, and the 
inches it has filled out at 
the bottoms of the columns 
of journals must amount to 
many, many square miles. 




Of Diogenes. 

/"\Ne asking Diogt- 

zZnes the Cynicke 

what hee would have 

to 'take a cuffe on the 
care, he aofwered hiro 
a helmet. The faint 
man walking in the 
fields, and feeing a 
young man mooting 
yery unskilfully, Went 
and fjte downc very 
necre the marke/ome 
asking him why hee 
did fo, hee anfwered 

by Google 

theVnhzrfiUz. 3j 

leaftperadventure hee 
fhould hie rciee that 

UMiJtates iff rtAding. 

f\Ne reading the 
^hiftory ofElifa, 
in the old Tefiament, 
and how the children 
mocked him , read, 
and there came three 
(hee Boares our of the 
for reft and devoured 


Original from 



Mixed with Mother Bunches 

Whcrevnmisaddedacbozaiof Gull«. 
Pretty and pleafant, la driue 

may tbt tedicuftieffioftt 
Winters Eueiung. 

fyy&^i $f*£f/ 

Impfimed at London for lohii Brown^ 
and are to Ujold at hisfhopinSam 
Dunftoncs Churchward, in Fleet- 
Arm 1 6 4. 

An earlier book than the Oratue Ludtntcs 
was called " PasquiTs Jests, Mixed with 
Mother Hunches Merriments, 
added a doozen of Guiles, 

pleasant, to drive away the 
tediousnesse of a winters 
evening," This was published 
in 1604, by one John Browne, 
of St, Dunstan's Churchyard, 
in Fleet Street, as may be 
setn by the title-page here 
copied. All, except the title- 
page and the headlines, is in 
black-letter, and never very 
inspiriting. But we reproduce 
the last of the tales — one 
which in^ other forms has 
been told to most of us as a 
new thing. And lest the 
black-letter reduced in size 
may net be completely legible 
to weak eyes, wo transcribe 

Vol. xv.— 33. 

W hereunto is 
Pretty and 

the matter of " The miserable nig- 
gardize of a Justice. To conclude, 
with this miserable Justice, who 
came to London, to the Terme : 
And lying in Fleet-street, a com- 
panic of excellent Musicians, in a 
morning, played very earely at his 
chamber. But he being loth to 
bestow his money so vainely, bade 
his man tell them, hee could not as 
then heare their Musike, for he 
lamented for the death of his 
mother Wherefore they went their 
way, for their hope was deceived. 
A Gentleman, a friend of his in 
London, hearing the same, came to 
comfort him, and asked him when 
his mother dyed? Fayth (quoth hee) 
some XVI yeeres agoe, When his 
friend understood his deceit, he 
laughed heartily," 

A signature will be noticed on 
the title-page we show, and another, 
similar, on the title-page of "The 
Pleasant Conceites of Old Hobson," 
shortly to be mentioned. The name 
is "William Shakespeare. J? The 
writing is undoubtedly very old, 
and may be the work of the great 
poet ; but the British Museum 
authorities (the copies of both 
books are in the Museum) do not 
consider the signatures genuine. 
The British Museum has long 
possessed these copies, and nobody 
is prepared with a conjecture as to 
who could have perpetrated the 
forgery, if forgery it be, or why it was done. 
Certainly, from the dates, copies of both 
might well have been possessed by Shake- 
speare. If, after all, the signatures be 

Themifmblcniggardtzeof ft 

T£) cwduDCt tottb t%iB mlfewMe Jattke, toljo tzmt to 
&0MHUT, Co tbt Centw : 3n0 Ipfng fa fUeMlr&t, a 
t ompanit rfflvtfilrtit apsatfaiis* (11 a morning, ptareO 
tar? caret? at Us eft raiber ,l5ut be being Loft t» Mb V 
M £ mnmtk tmtnelf*baw btemin tell tbtmjttm cop1d not if 
tycfifrttri tWr«0offfct l ft)&e larmnteo foj tlje DMffc of fcls- 
mit&er. SEUfcrcfoje ttpp toetit £f?r(r bi*p,foi t^cic hope teas 
trctlotht St ®m ttc roatij a ftkM of Wf in Lcnocm^eartn j 
-t^afamf , taint to comfo it Qf nt, an & aft 1 W W to & ett & u m o> 
tfctr Dpecf jftpib(f«attil*} (omi pt)l. pares agar, «»{OT> 
Wifriw»bnn«* 0»Ml Deceit* bf laasfceo^witilj, 

by Google 

Original from 







Old Hobfon the meny Londoner, 
f*H of humor ota iijemrfts, 

and witty mairocnu. 


t widkdiVthm nujhi 




^DUt^latA^^rJmm^i.wtiimtoUt fold it 
haflio[pcD€crcCiu«pChiif(|i g*c. 

dayes after it was Maister Fleete-wood's 
chaunse, to come to Maister Hobsons 
& knocking at the dore asked if he 
were within ? maister Hobson hearing, 
and knowing how he was denyed 
maister Fleete-woods speach before- 
time, speake himselfe aloud, and said, 
hee was not at home, Then sayd 
maister Fleete-wood, what master 
Hobson, thinke you that I knowe not 
your voyce, where-unto maister Hob- 
son answered and sayd, now maister 
Fleete-wood, am' I quit with you : for 
when I came to speake with you, I 
beleeved your man that said, you were 
not at home, and now you will not 
beleeve mine owne selfe, and this was 
the mery conference betwixt these two 
merry gentlemen." 

The original " Merry Andrew " is 
said to have been Andrew Boorde, or 
Horde, physician to Henry VIII. Our 
portrait on the opposite page is taken 
from a book of his in black-letter — 
the "Boke of the introduction of 
Knowledge n (with a foot or so more 
of title), and does not represent the 
doctor in particularly merry guise. 

genuine, a new and great interest attaches 
to these collections of old jokes. 

"The Pleasant Conceites of Old 
Hobson the merry Londoner," is a 
famous book of jests published in 1607. 
Hobson, as figured in the book, is a 
great joker, practical and otherwise, 
though most of his jokes are to be 
heard of elsewhere. The book, in this 
first edition (we give the title-page), was 
in black-letter, and from the last of 
the stories, shown on the last page 
here reproduced, we may learn that the 
numerous " not at home " stories are by 
no means all of yesterday and to-day. 
Here, breathless punctuation and all, is 
the transcription of " How Maister Hob- 
son said he was not at home. On a 
time Master Hobson upon someocation 
came to Master Fleetewoods house to 
speake with him, being then new chosen 
the recorder of London, and asked one 
of his men if he were within and he 
said he was not at home, but maister 
Hobson perceving that his maister bad 
him say so, and that he was within not 
being willing (at that time) to be spoken 
withall, for that time desembling the 
matter he went his way, within a few 

How Maifter Hobfon Hud he was not at home. 

[ £ artwefl^afln: Hobfon tfion tome 

focatfOttttWC to flftflU Flccte woods 

1 boofttotyeal*bHtbbtm,bemgt&m 

* ntupcftofentbe tttojbtt of iLon&oti* 


tbatbe tta*tttt#n not Witt totting (■* 
IftftmblmgtlK raart»$c tort 
a ft to tape* after* too* flPatOet Flcae-woods 
ctymnfe , to tome teflNf ft Hobfons , ffmocft* 
fngat t&e aoj^fiito if tic toew ttfttafmaftet 
Hobfon bearing* anbfmottmg bpttbttoa* be- 
apeti matter Fleetwoods fytacbbtfoje tfme. 
iptabe bmifrlft frtoob , anDfeto ,Dee«N|tf not at 
bome,Cbcnfapbraatffer Flcctc wood^atma* 
in Hobfon , tbmBtpoutbatl bnottf not pant 
borer , toftete*bnto nuiBet Hobfon antoettl) 
atttfepo, now matter Fic«c-wood % am 31 (toft 
ttftb pou: to; tobenH turn tofocafcetott&poa, 
9beUeiwd pout man UiatraOirpouttmnotaC 
borne , anT>nottpoBt»aiBorWt«itmim 
otone felfe, a*t& $f* ta* tbe jmttf 

mt ttp gentlemen, 

by Google 

Original from 



Rather is his expression suggestive of 
that of the uninventive sub -editor 
ordered by an arbitrary chief to produce 
a new joke in half an hour, and un- 
feelingly deprived of his scissors. His 
medical profession appear* to be indi- 
cated by an extra-sized chest-protector, 
worn outside. When, notwithstanding 
the chest-protector, he was dead, and 
past protesting, the poor doctor was 
made responsible for many booksellers' 
sins. " Scoggin's Jests " — or Scogin's, 
or Scogan's, or Scoggan's, as the name 
was diversely spelt — U A Historie of the 
Mylner of Abyngton " and t( Tales of 
the Wise Men of Gotham " (if no more) 
were issued with his name on the title- 
page, and nothing else of his in the 
books. " Scoggin ? s Jests w is one of the 
most famous jest-books in the language, 
and went through many varying editions. 
Still, it was little but a collection from 
other books, ox\^ at least of the stories 
being traceable to a prehistoric Hindu 
source. Scoggin is said to have been a 
facetious Master of Arts of Oxford, who, 
about 1480, was jester to Edward IV. 
But, needless to say, Scoggin also had 
nothing to do with the jokes in the book 
bearing his name, We give a facsimile 
of the title-page of the only copy known 

to exist of the first edition, now in the British 
Museum, One of Scoggin's anecdotes is 
a tale which is, and has been, familiar in 
many forms to everybody for hundreds— 
if not thousands — of years. It is the 
story of a stupid scholar, unable to master 
latin, sent by his teacher (Scoggin) to 
obtain deacon's orders from the bishop's 
ordinary. He learns by rote the answer to 
certain questions in a certain order which it 
is expected that the ordinary will follow, 
but the ordinary asks other questions, and the 
scholar faithfully answers with the words he 
has been taught, with absurd effect Then 
follows another familiar story, which we will 
transcribe. The scholar is sent again, and 
the ordinary, mollified by a bribe, makes the 
examination as easy as he can. The tale 
runs: "How the scholler said, Tom Miller 
of Osney was Jacob's Father After this the 
said scholler did come to the next orders, 
and brought a present to the Ordinary 
from Sccgin, but the schollers father 
paid for all. Then said the ordinary to 



Firft and beft Pan 






Full of witty mirth and plea- 

fcntfhifts, donebyhimin France, 

and other places : being 2 prefers 

true againft melancholy. 

Gathered by *^Andrtve Boerd,Da6u>t 


Primed foxFranetsWtBiamf* 

by KjiQ 


Original from 

3 oo 


the scholler, I must needes oppose you" 

(meaning question you) "and for Master 

Scogins sake I will oppose you in a light 

matter. Isaac had two sons, Esau & Jacob, 

who was Jacobs father : The scholler stood 

still and could not tell. Well, said the 

Ordinary, I cannot admit you to be priest, 

until the next Orders, and then bring me an 

answer. The scholler went home with a 

heavy heart, bearing a letter to Master 

Scogin, how his scholler could not answer 

to this question, Isaac had two sonnes, 

Esau & Jacob, who was Jacobs father. 

Scogin said to his scholler, thou foole and 

asse-head, doest thou not know Tom Miller 

of Osney ? Yes said the 

scholler. Then said 

Scogin, thou knowest 

he had two sonnes, 

Tom and Jacke, who 

is Jack's father : The 

Scholler said Tom 

Miller Why said Scogin 

thou mightest have said 

that Isaac was Jacob's 

father: then said Scogin, 

thou shalt arise betime 

in the morning, and 

carry a letter to the 

Ordinary and I trust he 

will admit thee before 

the Orders shall be 

given. The Scholler 

rose up betime in the 

morning and carried the 

letter to the Ordinary. 

The Ordinary said, for 

Master Scogin's sake I 

will oppose you no 

farther than I did 

yesterday ; Isaac had 

two sonnes, Esau and 

Jacob, who was Jacob's 

Father ? Marry, said 

the scholler, I can tell 

Tom Miller of Osney. 

the Ordinary, and let thy master send thee 

no more to me for Orders ; for it is unpossible 

to make a foole a wise man." 

Everybody will recognise this old yarn, 
best known, perhaps, in the form of the verses 
" Long Tom Smith the Doctor," where Noah 
is the father, and Shem, Ham, and Japhet 
the sons. 

We give a facsimile of another of Scoggin's 
tales, from a later and differing edition. 
This again is a familiar favourite, and again 
we transcribe : " How Scogin sold Powder to 
kill Fleas. Scogin divers times did lack 

money, and could not tell what shift to make, 
at last he thought to play the Physitian, and 
did fill a box full of the Powder of a rotten 
Post ; and on a Sunday he went to a Parish 
Church, and told the Wives that he had a 
Powder to kill up all the Fleas in the Countrey, 
and every wife bought a pen ni worth, and 
Scogin went his way e're Mass was done. 
The wives went home, and cast the Powder 
into their beds, and in their chambers, 
and the Fleas continued still. On a time 
Scogin came to the same Church on a 
Sunday, and when the wives had espied him, 
the one said to the other, This is he that 
deceived us with the Powder to kill Fleas : 

How foWfffa fold Powder to kill Fleas. 

SCogin Wfcec* time* W* lad money, at* mdfe not teti Ufpttyfftca 
m&htt atlaftljc^W8^W|«a?^e^teat(an, anDK&ffftato* 
fuft of t$e prtDtec of a rotten JBoft ; an) on a fetoOa? fee tome to a 
$ac($ Cfjuccf), an&t^tfratotwftjjatle&rt a gflWMt to Wtt tip 
all tfp JFlea* in t|e Counter?, ano rtet? trtfe bought a pennitoo^ 
an* Scogin toent fcte toap e're 9?ate tea* bone.. I&e toOK* toent 
$ome f anil catttfje£oWet into tt>fictew,an6mtirtrt|ainto«f,antt 
tbt jRea* continues 1MB* fDn a time Scogin came to tf>e fame Cfcurtfc 
on a fetmfiap, ano tofien tfee toibejaf tyft eqrteb $m, tj»e one fato to tfje 
o^ f ^W0i*!>et&at*eent>eauei^ fe 9 

fait tic one to tfje otyrr, tftf* f* tfc fclfcfamc pcrfirtt. asifcn «?afe 
towf Hone, t&etofiKUBartjrce&atout Scogin, anOfcto, foufceno&o* 
neftmanto Oecefce uu toitj tie fpoWier to Wtt iFleajf. afflf«f, tart 
Scogin, ate not pour flea* all Oeaft? 23U fpabc moje note (TaiS t|ep) 
tfianeSectaeisk 3(matteloftliat,fattScogici,3[amfurtpouWii 
not uf e t&e fl?eWcine a* pou tyoutt fete bone. %W f *fo» to * W* o* 
it (n out pm, ano in out cfcam&cw, flft, falD fce, tfcece be a fo?r of 
Col0 tfiat tofll Imp a t#n&, anfi Wll not atffc to&at tfteptyaaDotoitfHt. 
3 tell pou all, t|jat pou fljjoulb Ijabe token ebetp jRea bp r&e neck, ana 
ttien tJSe? tooulb gape, and t&enpouC&onlB Ijabe cad a little of t&e poto* 
bet into ebetp JFlca* mouttj, anb fo pou fl^oulb |>ate killeb tfcem. ^m t 
fata tfcc toibrflf, toe |abe nor onlp loft out tuoncp, but toe ate mockeb 
foyout labour* 

you now ; that was 
Goe, foole, goe, said 

by Google 

see, said the one to the other, this is the self- 
same person. When Mass was done, the 
wives gathered about Scogin, and said, You 
be no honest man to deceive us with the 
Powder to kill Fleas. Why, said Scogin, 
are not your Fleas all dead ? We have more 
now (said they) than ever we had. I marvel 
of that, said Scogin, I am sure you did not 
use the Medicine as you should have done. 
They said, we did cast it in our beds and in our 
chambers. Ah, said he, there be a sort of 
fools that will buy a thing and will not ask 
what they shall do with it. I tell you all, 
that you should have taken every Flea by the 
neck, and then they would gape, and then 

Original from 




one of the first Actors in 

you should have cast a little of the 
Powder into every Fleas mouth, and so 
you should have killed them. Then, 
said the wives, we have not only lost 
our money, hut we are mocked for our 
labour" It will be remembered that 
Captain Manyat worked up this old joke 
m " Japhet in Search of a Father." 

Richard Tarlton ("Dick " Tarlton in 
most records) was a famous comedian in 
filizabeth's time* The Earl of I^eicester 
found him tending swine at his native 
village of Condover in Salop, and brought 
him to London, being pleased with his 
ready wiL He acted as judge in a play 
of ** Henry Y., ,? earlier in date than 
Shakespeare's play of the same name; 
but he was best as clown, He died in 
1^89, and was buried at Shoreditch. For 
some few years he escaped the post- 
humous penalty then inflicted by book- 
sellers on dead wits, but in i5ii the 
inevitable " Richard Tarleton's Jests " 
appeared, with the frontispiece here given, 
inhibiting Dick playing tabor and pipe 
on a grating, or a tiled paving, as the 
case may be. The portrait may or may 
not be like Tarlton, but if Tarlton had 

anything to do with the jests included id the 
book, he was a mere purveyor of chestnuts, 
and the Earl of Leicester was deceived, 
But poor Dick may safely be held blameless 
of this book, which, however, grew very popu- 
lar. We give a reproduction of the first page 
of an edition of 1638, with two jests, neither 
irresistibly funny. The first describes how 
the Queen having, on one occasion, decided 
that Tarlton had drank enough beer, and 
stopped the supply, " Feare not you (quoth 
Tarlton) for your Beere is small enough." 
Whereat, we are told, " her Majestic laughed 
heartily." Good Queen Bess seems to have 
had an enviable capacity for enjoyment The 
other story we transcribe: "Tarlton having 
beene late at Court and comming homewards 
thorow Fleet street, he espi'd the Watch, 
and not knowing how to passe them, he went 
very fast, thinking by that meanes to goe 
unexamined. But the Watch men perceiv ing 
that he shunned them, slept to him, and 
commanded him in the Queenes name to 
stand. Stand ? quoth Tarlton, let them 
stand that can, for I cannot So falling downe, 

by Google 

Tarkons Qcurt mtty fefts. 

How Trnttm pUid the Drunkard be fort tht 

»<£ ftafrnt bring affcontnrtco ; 
artjlEfc Tatfcon pirctfotng, t*nip- 
m %\m to eclffibt bsr tuitb feme 
^atntkft: lufceuapfln bit rctrotrr- 
i(tfoiB^Dnfcar& J nntt utlto toj 
5 art, lu^icb t«a5 bjfla^fet tin- 
mcbiatdf, tyer s>auflte mring 
if bam*} 1 rcmirjfin&(b tfyj[ fcc 
IbaalD baut no mo)f :\ 0; f quoth that) be toil plsp fin bcaP, 
fcrafefcamt btmfdfr #tar* n«t f on (qiiofb Tirlidh J 
roipotit ffi*r(tftfffialUnoBfi6u tiBLfctrttt feir (pafifiie 
Lfltiftljcafrcarillv, eno conimanMbftl be ft<ml& banc 

How T*rhtn decerned the witch 10 
Fleet ftrcct. 

TAt Iron Van tti| bwm late et Court , arm camming 
tometoam tbn*to /ifftffrffi^ffp^Bttt 0attb, 
arrbflttimototnDtatotQ puffc (hcnr fr hft Uitnt fctti" flO f 
tblnfctogbMk&t mtant$ to get brtfjamiiifb- »ot tH 
m&Ub men pttttming thai Dee tfauiuitD tbrm, fftpifo 
htm, ariD tomraantitfr bim in tbs ft urtftc* mriu [o ffqnn 
(&>iantU|Q*ift Tarlton At t tbem Qm* t&at un,(«i 1 ran- 
not. fea tali ma eoiuTie,fla Ifeoutfj be fiafl ttr nt pjci^ih* j 
t^PitJpt twitopano fo Erf fcrm i^fle. 

Original from 




T^jJ" wife rt wentfrvuf racket m?nn?s te tiVfsr - 
lfr7ri/r fA 1 HulLaricl secmes tejlfrpc hut docf not flccfe\ 
Qiut ; he migh^full ar wcJl ^rLecturc imv thcr , 
F&r ersthnp onr 6nrCiitjQcj &ut at father . 

London^ Printed Jer- TK^Btfi mltet trh; f 7M tfhnjhp 

as though he had been drunke, they helpt him 
up, and so let him passe*" Not very funny 
and not very new. The volume is divided 
into three parts, The Court Witty Jests, The 
Sound City Jests, and the Country Pretty 
Jests — all witty, sound , and pretty perhaps, 
but very musty with age, even at that time. 

In 1640 a book appeared with the title, "Art 
Asleepe Husband? A Boulster Lecture," 
which may well be considered the seven- 
teenth century prototype of '* Mrs. Caudle's 
Curtain Lectures," if we judge alone by 
the frontispiece and title - page. But the 
matter of the book scarcely bears out the 
promise of "all variety of witty jeasts t merry 
Tales and other pleasant passages," being 
something of a learned and sober, not to 
say pedantic and dull, exposition of woman's 
many excellencies. Still, it seems very likely 
that the idea of Mrs. Caudle may have been 
suggested to Douglas Jerrold by a sight of 
the quaint frontispiece and tide-page. 

We may recognise an old friend in the 
joke embodied in a verse printed in "Con- 
ceits, Clinches, Flashes, and Whimzies," 
published in 1639. The verse purports to 
be an epitaph " On a Cobler." 

If any aske why this same stone was made 
Know for a Co bier newly underlay d, 
Here for his overroasting ; pray condole 
Ilim lhat translated many a weary sole. 

Until quite lately — perhaps even now — 
" translators " were wretchedly paid cobblers, 
who etched up old boots to sell again. 

But the most famous, the type of all jest- 
books, is the immortal Joe Miller. Now the 
book, $i Joe Miller's Jests, or the Wit's Vade 
Mecum, TT is a double fraud. In the first place, 
Joe Miller had nothing to do with it, nor 
with any of its contents, though this, of course, 
was merely the usual thing. Hut a further 
fact was that poor Joe Miller himself never 
made a joke in his life, and could not see one 
when it was made. He was a comedian, it 
is true, and a man fond of bright company. 
Nevertheless, he seldom spoke and he never 
laughed, no matter how mirthful the company 
might be. He could neither read nor write, 
and he learned his parts (he played with 
ability at Old Drury Lane) by the assistance 
of his wife, He had a habit of spending his 
afternoons at the " Black jack " in Ports- 
mouth Street, where a sort of club of 
neighbouring tradesmen met. Here his 
immovable gravity and his lack of humour 
became a joke, and whenever any particularly 
funny thing was repeated, his companions 
ironically ascribed it to his facetious inven- 
tion. This fact, and the other fact of his 
success as an actor, caused his name to be 
noised abroad, so that after his death, one 
Read, a small publisher of chap - books, 
having got together a shilling book of jests, 

Frum an] 


[OM Prt*t, 

by Google 

Original from 



Joe Miller's J ESTS: 





A CoiledioQ of the moft Brilliant Jests; 
the Politeft Repartees ; the moft Ele- 
gant BonsMots, and moft pka&nt (hort 
Stories in the Englijb Language. 

Firft carefully collected in the Company, and 

nuuiy of tfcm traafcribed from die Moutk of the Face- 

tltttf GlITLBMAK, WBOfe NjLOK thtf bar ; VO& SOW fet 

forth tad pobtifred by hi* UmesubJe Friend and fonxme 
Cooiparoon, EHj*b JmtUm, £fq$ 

Moft Humbly Inscribed 

f* tbok Choice-Spirits of the AGE, 

Captain Bodens, Mr. Alexander Pope, 
Mr. Profeflbr Lacy, Mr. Orator Henleyj 
and Job Baker, the Kettle-Drummer. 


Printed and Sold by T. Riap, in Df«xll-C*rt 9 WUtt 
ffjaru Fiitt-Sirm. Mftccxxnx, 

(Price One Shilling.) 

much light on contemporary habits and 
manners, and the jokes are still found 
useful. We reproduce, in reduced facsimile, 
jokes numbered 99, 175, and 235 in the first 
edition. No. 99, like the lady k tells of, is 
resolved never to grow old ; it is told or read 
somewhere every day. No. 1 75 is given as a 
quaint instance of the practice, frequent in 
cheap publications of the time, of imparting 
an air of mysterious innuendo, of half-daring 
libel, by the skeletonizing of words by aid of 
hyphens. Thus, "a certain Nobleman, a 
Courtier, " is set down " a certain Noblem - - 

99. A Lady's Age happening to be ques- 
tioned, flic affirmed, (he was but Forty, and 
call'd upon a Gentleman that was in Compa- 
ny for his Opinion ; Coufin, (aid (he, do you 
believe I am in the Right, when I fay I ?rn 
but Forty ? I ought not to difpute it, Madam, 
reply *d he, for I have heard yoo fay fo tbcfe 
ten Tears. 

175. A certain Noblem — , a Cour — r, in 
the Beginning of the late Reign, coming out 
of the H — fe of L — ds, arcous the Duke of 

B bam, wiih, How does your Pot boil, my 

Lord, tbefe trouble/ome Times f To which his 
Grace replied, I never go into my Kitchen, but 
I dare lay the Scum is upper moft. 

with the aid of a poor hack, Mr. John 
Mottley, laid hands on the dead actor's 
name to give popularity to his venture. 
Thus, <; Joe Miller's Jests " came into the 
world in 1739, ^h vast success. Second 
and third editions were published in the 
same year, another in the year succeeding, 
and a fifth in 1742. After that scarce a 
year passed without a new edition till 
almost the end of the eighteenth century. 
We print a copy of the title-page of the 
original edition. 

It is the fashion to speak of "Joe Miller's 
Jests " as though the book were familiar to 
everybody. But how many have seen a copy 
of any edition ? Copies of the first edition, 
indeed, are rare and difficult to find ; though 
the jokes in them are the same old jokes 
easy to find always, anywhere. The book, 
indeed, is but a compilation from the jest- 
books of the preceding two centuries, 
brought up to date. The anecdotes throw 

235. One making a furious Aflault upon t 
hot Appk-pye, burnt his Mouth 'till the Tears 
ran down ; his Friend asked htm, Why be 
wept ? Only, fays be, 'tis jufi come into my 
Mtnd, that my Grand-mother dfd this Day 
twelvemonth: Phoolkp the other, is that silt 
Sd whipping a large Piece into his Mouth, he 
quickly tympathiz'd with his Companion ; who 
feeing his Eyes brim full, with a malicious 
Sneer tsk'd htm, why be wept tATlagw on you* 
&ys he, hecamfi nu were not banged the Jame 
Day ymr Grand-mother dyd. 

by Google 

a Cour r," and "the House of Lords " is 

made, as if with bated breath, " the H - - se 
of L - - ds." No. 235 is another evergreen. 
It has a way, of late years, of referring, not 
to two Englishmen eating apple-pie, but two 
unsophisticated Indians in their first en- 
counter with mustard. 

The tales of the Wise Men of Gotham 

Original from 





Wife Men of Gotham* 

Printed and Sold in London* 

at his mouth, calling " Coocou " on his 
own account* Though whether it is the 
man or the cuckoo who says this, and which 
of them it is that says "Gotam," the con- 
fused state of the legends leaves one in 
doubt In the body of the little book the 
tales are illustrated with whatever woodcut 
happened to be at hand, Thus, in tale II., 
the man on horseback, who is supposed to ho 
carrying a bushel of wheat on his own shoul- 
ders in order to save his horse, has no bushel 
of wheat, and probably did duty for a bold 
highwayman, or the Duke of Marlborough, 
or a jockey winning a race, whenever the 
subject of a penny ballad or chap-book 
demanded it This particular story, by the 
way, is of world-wide spread. It appeared 
in a monkish Latin poem in the twelfth 
century, but it was very old then. It was 
known in early times all over Europe and 
Asia, and it is told to-day in Ceylon and in 
Japan. Other stories in the set are of almost 
world- wide fame ; the one, for instance, which 
tells of the three men going fishing, when 
one, on the way back, takes the precaution of 
counting to see if all are safe. But, omitting 
to count himself, he makes certain that one 
of them must be drowned, and laments 

went through many editions, of which 
we select one for illustration, that pro- 
bably about the time of the first Joe 
Miller. Here one may read the title- 
page and tale IIL The "k 51 and the 
"h Jt at the beginning of the first and 
second lines after the illustration have 
changed placers, and the * E k" is upside 
down; and "the" in the bottom line 
but one is spelt u teh." But errors of 
that sort count for little when present 
and past tenses are used as casually as 
in the sentence, " The Cuckoo when she 
see herself," etc. 

The real and proper illustration to 
the cuckoo tale, however, is on the title- 
page, as is right and fitting, for the 
cuckoo tale is the best known of all. 
In this picture the hedge, apparently of 
wicker-work and about a foot or so high, 
is certainly too low to keep any able- 
bodied cuckoo prisoner. Indeed, a 
reversal of things seems to have taken 
place, for the cuckoo {about the si*e 
of a turkey) sits gaily aloft on a tree 
(such a tree !} while the sage representa- 
tive of Gotham is imprisoned in the 
hedged-in space, and, by the label 

TALE Iff. 

ON i time the men of Gotham fain 
would ha« pinned the cuckoo,, 
that (he might fing all the year > all in 
the mid ft of the town they had a hedge 
made in a round compaf$ f and got a cuc- 



hoo f and put her into it, and Paid, Sing 
ijere and you ftiall lack neither meat nor 
drink all the yeaT. The Cuckoo when 
fhe fee herfelf encompafled within the 
hedge, flew away, A vengeance on 
berfaid the W*fe Men, we made not teh 
hedge high enough, i 

Original from 

From Cairo to Cataract. 

Bv Sir George Newnes, Bart. 

a \; A 

(HIS is not an attempt to 
describe the archaeological and 
historic wonders that abound 
in the land of the Pharaohs. 
That work has been done so 
often and so well, that further 
effort would probably result in mere repeti- 
tion. It is an account of the experiences of 
six Britishers who spent about a month on 
the glorious Nile* What they saw and what 
they did may be of interest to those who 
have never traversed those regions, and it 
will revive pleasant memories perhaps in 
those who know them well, 

Egypt is now in the hands of two armies 

cheaper and more comfortable than it would 
have been without them. 

But we have embarked on the Nile too 
soon ; we must first stay a few days at Cairo, 
the many-sided, many-coloured city of the 
desert. We first put up at the Gezirah Palace 
Hotel — a very fine palace built by the late 
Khedive to entertain the monarchs and other 
distinguished visitors who came to the opening 
of the Suez Canal. To erect such a huge 
place for a special occasion shows the breadth 
of hospitality of His Highness, and the con- 
fidence he had in the long-suffering endurance 
of the taxpayer* But the Palaces of the 
Khedive are numberless. Nearly all the 



i fi.„irilM. 

of occupation. One is composed of British 
soldiers, and the other of the men of Thos, 
Cook and Sons. The Latter generals have 
certainly taken possession of the Nile. The 
former are here to preserve order and insure 
good government, and the latter to issue 
coupons. Both appear to do their work 
well, and to have gained the confidence of 
their clients. Speaking of clients reminds 
us of lawyers, and the only time when either 
of the two armies has suffered serious defeat 
was when they fought against one another — 
in the Law Courts. The casus belli was the 
question of the ownership of some large 
postal steamers — and it is said that the army 
of coupons was worsted with severe loss, 
viz., ^16,000. This from one point of view 
is rather to be regretted, as there is no doubt 
that they have made travel, here as elsewhere, 

largest houses in Cairo are inhabited by 
the Khedive and his relations. When you are 
passing a particularly fine place, you ask the 
dragoman what relative of the Khedive lives 
there, and he tells you that it is his mother, 
or his brother, or his cousin, and so on. We 
soon found the beautiful Gezirah Palace too 
far from the town, and removed to the world- 
renowned Shepheard's Hotel. 

We did wisely. In front of this hotel is a 
large covered space, in which people sit and 
watch the ever-changing scenes of the liveliest 
street in Cairo. The costumes are endless 
in variety of shape and colour, Egyptians, 
Arabs, Bedouins, Turks, Greeks, Jews, 
Assyrians, Nubians, Maltese, and Europeans. 
The natives wear, for the men, a white flowing, 
folding garment, which looks more like night 

,ha ° m iftfofy UTiraaff e in a sirailir 




dress, only mostly black. Their religion 
compels them to cover their faces with a veil, 
concealing all but their jet-black eyes. It is 

of the female fea- 
tures. They are 
dusky and ugly. 

One of the most 
curious sights in 
Cairo is that of the 
sais, or carriage- 
runners. Rich people 
employ one or two 
of these sail to run 
in front of their car- 
riages to clear the 
way. They are 
dressed in a most 
picturesque cos- 
tume, and carry a 
gold-tipped staff. On 
approaching a corner 
they shout a warning 
— or if anyone is in 
the way. They run 
most gracefully, and are fine- looking fellows. 
But they do not live long, and generally die of 
heart disease — the prolonged fast running, 
extending sometimes for several hours a day, 
proving in time too much for them. They 
are private servants, regularly engaged like 
footmen. The privilege of having two sais 
running side by side is supposed to be limited 
to the Khedive's relatives, high Government 
officials, Army officers, and some others, 

an Jlcyhtjan woman. 
From, a J'tato. fr* B*miU*> 

fastened to their headgear by a brass or 
wooden or silver nose-hrid^e, which looks 
like a chess king or rook. The few women's 
faces that are necti uncovered lead one to 
thank a religion which insures the concealing 



3° 7 

FtiiUi. q. t'hvU}. by\ 

11 A / A A k A I t; A L k ( 

though, like that of the cockade in Britain, it 
is sometimes wrongfully appropriated. 

The bazaars are, of course, the chief ftaiim; 

of Cairo, They are narrow lanes of 
shops— if one can call places not 
much bigger than large boxes or 
wardrobes by the name of shops. 
The owner sits cross-legged in the 
front, and his wares arc on little 
shelves around him. Every neces- 
sary and unnecessary of life is exhi- 
bited* Also the making of jewellery, 
tin -work, brass -work, saddlery, 
clothes, slippers, etc*, all done 
openly, with no windows. These 
bazaars are almost always crowded 
with people passing to and fro ; and 
it is indeed a strange and lively 

Perhaps the most remarkable sight 
we witnessed was at the University 
Mosque, Students from all parts of 
the world come there, many of them 
with a view to becoming Moham- 
medan priests. The mosque is, For 
the most part, without roof, and there 
— squatting cross-legged, like tailors, 
on the floor — were 6,000 men and 
youths, in classes, learning the Koran 
and other religious works- Professors 
were talking to their classes or ex- 
amining their pupils' work. This was 
about ii a.m. We were told, had we gone 
at eight, we should have seen 15,000. This 
University is the one to which all Moham- 




f* 1 *™' """"iJl^TYOF^HIGAr** 



medans wish to go, no matter in what country 
they live. What strikes one is the utter 
slovenliness in dress- Although many of the 
students belonged to rich families, there was 
a complete absence of any attempt to adorn 
themselves even neatly, and fine raiment was 
not to be seen. They all looked as if on 
getting up in the morning they simply threw 
around their bodies some folds of white, 
blue, or black drapery, put on a turban, 
slided into slippers, and sallied forth. 

There are five hundred mosques in Cairo, 
and it is the custom to summon the people to 
prayer by shouting from the top of the minaret 
or tower of each mosque. At six in the morn- 
ing they are all five hundred calling the faithful 
to their devotions, and you can imagine the 
babel there is. Besides attending mosque 
the Mohammedan has his other hours of 
prayer, and in the middle of his work, in his 
shopj in the street, anywhere, before any 
ntimber of people, you will see him suddenly 
falling on his knees, swaying up and down, 
looking towards Mecca, and praying. He 
does not think it necessary to isolate himself, 
as the act of prayer is so reverenced that be 
is quite free from any risk of being disturbed. 

A most remarkable and revolting sight in 
Cairo is what is called the Fish Market, 
This quarter is inhabited by the lowest of 
the low. You can hardly call them men and 
women, they have sunk to such depravity. 
The males are in cafe, drunk with hasheesh 
—a sort of opium, which they smoke till they 
imagine themselves in 
battle, and sway sticks 
about in a helpless, stupid 
kind of way, just as if they 
were dreaming. The women 
stand or lie about the dirty, 
narrow streets, openly ply- 
ing their horrible trade. 
At eleven o'clock they are 
compelled to go inside, 
and they sit behind iron 
bars inviting passers-by to 
come into their dark dens. 
The sight is indeed a sad 
one. Jt would be im- 
possible to find women 
more utterly lost to every- 
thing womanly. They are 
as degraded as they are 
ugly. It is a wonder that 
such a scene is possible 
in a country under British 
rule. It is only fair to say, 
however, that, since the 
British occupation, much 

has been done to sweep away these vice spots, 
and doubtless more will be accomplished in 
the future. 

But for the most part Cairo is bright and 
cheerful European cities are in many 
respects alike. Cairo has, so to speak, an 
individuality of its own. The hours slip 
rapidly by amid the varying scenes, J^o 
one is ever bored in Cairo, It seems as if 
every nation on earth has sent its quota to 
form the great kaleidoscope. 

Lord Cromer (Sir Evelyn Baring), our 
Consul-General, really governs Egypt He 
is extremely deferential to the Khedive at 
public functions, but it is well known that 
he holds the reins, and the Khedive does 
nothing without consulting him* Indeed, 
he is sometimes called the King of Egypt 

The trip to the Pyramids is now easy, 
as , a good road has been made, A ten- 
mile drive brings you to the foot of Gizeh, 
the greatest of them all, It is said that 
100,000 men were employed for thirty 
years over its construction — all to make a 
safe resting-place 
for the body of 
a monarch whose 
corpse was after- 
wards stolen. 
The second 

ASCEND^ |*4?tffi»^ VWm. ft Itlfl f\ Li V«* V.-UJ.A. 



rrvui ii| 

largest is close to it, and almost 
equals it in size Then come others 
of varying distances and varying 
heights, the total number still stand- 
ing reaching about fifteen. Many 
visitors make the ascent of the 
great Gizeh, and some are sorry for 
it afterwards ; whilst many declare 
that there is no great difficulty in 
it — and for the young and strong 
and agile, perhaps there is not. It 
is astonishing to see the Bedouin 
Arabs, who are there, run up and 
down Gizeh against time. The 
two fastest agreed that for a few 
shillings they would undertake to 
run up to the top of Gizeh and 
down again in eight minutes. One 
of these monkey-like climbers took 
just under and the other just over 
the prescribed time. 

We referred previously to the 
passion of the Khedives for build- 
ing houses. One of them has even placed a 
sort of villa or bungalow just at the foot of 
the great Pyramid, altogether out of place and 
out of keeping with its surroundings. It is 
merely put there so that his friends may have 
lunch in private. A few hundred yards from 
Gizeh is the greatest of the Sphinxes — known 
by sight to all the world. 

We must now make a start for the First 
Cataract. We have chartered the good ship 
Niiocris, a small steamer with a crew of 
sixteen, with berths for eight passengers, a 
comfortable saloon, and an excellent upper 
deck extending fore and aft It may be 
wondered where so many as sixteen sailors 
sleep on such a small ship. As a matter of 
fact, they sleep very comfortably on deck well 
wrapped up. When we go from the saloon 
aft to our beds forward, at night, we have to 
thread our way between their reclining 

In command of our little vessel is 




Awn? 4) 


dragoman, Salem Gaziri, who has for nearly 
twenty years in the winter been conducting 
parties up the Nile, and the rest of the year 
taking other parties through the Holy I .and, 
Turkey, Greece, and elsewhere. Admirable 
Criehton was supposed to know everything 
and to do everything- So is a good drago- 
man, Salem provisions our ship, looks after 
the cook, helps to wait at the table, points 
out all the places of interest we pass, goes 
with us to the temples and tombs, knows 
every hieroglyphic in each, hires our camels 
and donkeys, keeps off the natives — who are 
for ever, men, women, children, and even 
babies, holding out their hands for back- 
sheesh— pays all expenses, acts as captain of 
the ship, takes his turn at the helm, rails 
down the pipe orders to the engine-room, and 
generally superintends and bosses everything 
and everybody on hoard. If you wish it, he 
is quite willing and able to cut your hair and 
shave you ; and one night, when two of our 

party went ashore to 
have some billiards, 
they were not in the 
least surprised when 
they looked up and 
saw Salem, marking 
the game. 

He ia deferential 
to us, autocratic to 
the crew, and bully- 
ing to the crowds 
that follow usj&on 
shore. In his pic- 

HiggKsq™ s y rian 

Original fror 

3 to 


dress he looks the dignified genius which he 
is. Some people who had him last year 
were so pleased with him that they took him 
to London to show him the Jubilee proces- 
sion, which he says was magnificent ; and I 
believe the only regret he had with regard to 
it was that he himself was not conducting all 
the arrangements. 

Our first stop is for the purpose of visiting 
Memphis and Sakkara. The tombs of the 
Sacred Bulls of the latter place, and very 
many others, were discovered and excavated 
by the great French Egyptologist, M. Marie tie, 
who built himself a house out in the desert, 
so as to be near his beloved labours, He 
lived there for thirty years. The tomb men- 
tioned is a great cavernous passage nearly a 
mile long, on each side of which are the 
sarcophagi of these sacred beasts* Each one 
was worshipped for twenty- five years, then 
put to death and buried here, and another 
reigned in its stead. 

Pagans on the banks of the Nile wor- 
shipped all kinds of animals— cows, jackals, 
geese, crocodiles, birds— especially the ibis, 
the owl, and the vulture — sheep, hogs, rams, 
goats, serpents, scorpions, and even the un- 
gocilike domestic, the cat* If anyone was 
known to ill-treat a pussy, he and all his family 
were burnt to ashes. This idolatry lasted 
4,000 years. In other parts of Egypt the 
rising sun, the midday sun, and the setting 
sun were all worshipped ; and, in fact, in 
different places they seem to have set up 
gods of every con- 
ceivable and incon- 
ceivable kind. 

While visiting 
the tombs of Beni 
Hassan we heard a 
wild, wailing sound 
in the valley below, 
which turned out 
to be a native 
funeraL The pro- 
cession crossed a 
field from a village 
of mud huts to the 
cemetery, the men 
in front singing, 
" There is no Gcd 
but one God r and 
Mohammed was 
sent hy God," the 
children behind 
singing and the 
women moaning 
and groaning. It 
was a weird scene. 

At Beni Hassan is the tomb of Ameni, who 
appears to have had a very high opinion of 
his manifold virtues, and not to be over- 
burdened with modesty in setting them forth. 
This is the inscription which runs right round 
the walls of his tomb : — 

I have done all that I have said. I am a gracious 
and a compassionate man, and a ruler who loves his 
town, I have passed the course of years as the ruler 
of Meh, and all the labours of ihe palace have been 
carried out by my hands. I have given io the overseers 
of the temples of the gods of Met» 3,000 hulls wiih 
their cows* and I was in favour in the palace on 
account of it, for I carried all ihe products of the milk- 
l>earing cows to the palace, ami no contributions to 
the king's storehouses have lieen more than mine, I 
have never made a child grieve, I have never robbed 
the widow, I have never repulsed the labourer, I have 
never shut up a herdsman, I have never impressed for 
forced laliour the labourers of a man who only- 
em ployed five men ; there was never a person miserable 
in my time, no one went hungry during my rule, for 
if there were years of scarcity I ploughed up all the 
arable land in the nonie of Meh, up toils very frontiers 
on the north and south. By this means I made its 
people live and procured for them provisions, so that 
there was not a hungry person among them, I gave 
to the widow the same amount as I gave to the married 
woman, and I made no distinction between the great 
and the little in all thai I gave. And, behold, when 
the inundation was great, and the owners of the land 
became rich thereby, I laid no additional tax upon the 

One day we stayed at a village quite un- 
known to thy usual tourist, just for the sake 
of an hour's exercise. It proved to be a 
happy thought The place was most interest- 
ing. It consists of the usual mud huts and 
bazaars. It was market day, and the people 

Mum 4 VhtoUs. &*] EN TRAKCtt TO AH^i] j \t [>fe. | ^dfi £_)fr*MWi H I '- J A N M- &*** 



had come in from the country-side and the 
edge of the desert. We created a sensation ; 
not being a place where Cook's steamers stop, 
the folks had probably never or seldom seen 
Britishers before. They stopped their work 
to stare at us, and when we halted at a shop 
to buy a few things, a crowd collected, and 
followed us all through our wanderings. 
The policeman on duty took us under his 
care, and went with us, beating off with a 
stick any whom he thought were pressing 
us too closely. We were quite a little 
procession. The dragoman, who had not 
landed here before, took on shore a sturdy 
boatman, who marched in front with a big 
stick. Next came Salem. 

Then we followed with the policeman. 
The market-place was crowded with buyers 
and sellers, all squatting on the ground. 
Everybody sits tailor-fashion in Egypt, 
apparently. This was a rough, swarthy, 
grizzly crowd, and all dressed in the long 
folding garment which reaches from head to 
foot, except the children of both sexes, and 
their account at the tailor's or dressmaker's 
is nil. I recommend all travellers on the 
Nile, who charter their own private steamers, 
to visit some of those places where Cook's 
tourist boats do not stop. There you see 
the real Eastern life, untouched by European 
invasion, and the curiosity you arouse in 
them and they arouse in you is mutually 

For this purpose, on another day we 
selected an out -of -way mud hut village, 
almost hidden behind a belt of date palms. 
It was far away from any show-place, and had 
a difficult landing. Here we ought to see 
the dusky native in all the rough simplicity 
of his home. And so it was. Salem thought 
it wise to take two sailors with us, a pre- 
caution which we did not desire, as we 
thought six fairly muscular Christians ought 
to be able to take care of themselves. But 
any escort was quite unnecessary. The 
people were very civil, simply opened their 
eyes wide, and their mouths also, as they 
followed us around. The Sheikh, or chief 
of the village, told us that no European had 
visited them before, at any rate, dressed as 
we' were. ' 

We never could have believed that the 
prosaic, inartistic appendagts to the lower 
limbs of the animal man would have 
excited so much wonderment; it was, indeed, 
like the name of the garment in question, 

Our next stop was at Naghr Hamadi, 
which was the extreme limit of the rail- 

way which ultimately, it is said, will reach 
Khartoum. At the station we saw a large 
number of workmen and soldiers who had 
been engaged on the Berber portion of the 
line, and were invalided home to Cairo. We 
were told they had been very badly fed in 
the desert, not having tasted meat for two 
months, and, in fact, only subsisting, on hard, - 
stony bread, which has to be boiled two or 
three times before the teeth can bite it. 
Hearing this, we bought up all the provisions 
we could get in the station — bread, cheese, 
oranges, dates — and we gave these out to 
them as they sat or stood in open compart- 
ments waiting for the train to start. We also 
gave them cigarettes, arid as the train steamed 
out they raised a tremendous cheer for us, 
something like our " Hip ! hip ! hurrah ! " 
and we felt that for a few shillings we 
had enjoyed more genuine pleasure than 
perhaps in seeing half-a-dozen ancient 

We once more embark on the good, albeit 
venerable, ship Nitocris. 

There is one, and so far only on£, 
disappointment with the river. There are 
two Niles, the Blue Nile and the White 
Nile. This is the Blue Nile— but, alas ! 
it is not blue. It is a muddy brown 
caused by the deposits from the Abyssinian 
Hills. But there are always compensations 
in Nature, and if the Egyptians are deprived 
of looking upon blue waters flowing down 
their beloved river, they are at any rate con- 
soled by the fact that these selfsame deposits 
are the great cause of the fruitfulness of the 
land upon its shores. The Nile is said to 
be one of the tributaries of the river spoken 
of in the Bible which ran through the Garden 
of Eden, and then parted into four huge 
rivers and watered the earth — the other 
three being the Indus, the Tigris, and the 

Luxor is perhaps the most interesting place 
we have seen. Not for itself — but because it 
is built upon the site of ancient Thebes, once 
the capital of Egypt, and, indeed, of the 
world. The Thebes of to-day consists of a 
few mud huts. Here is the great temple of 
Karnak— by far the finest we have seen. It 
contains one hundred and thirty-four carved 
columns, each one as large in circumference 
as the Vendome Column in Paris. It took 
about a dozen kings to complete it. The 
ancient Egyptians knew not how to make 
arches, so they had to choke up their temples 
with pillars— placed no farther apart than 
would admit of one stone spanning across 

from Ll^§ff/8^^.ff forming the 





^ Urn n< 

l* 1 

1 - " ■- - ' 

f-"i"-^m a] 


roof. It is said that a life was lost for every 
stone put in its place in Karnak temple. 

The Egyptians appear to have had no 
cranes or other appliances known to the 
modern builder. It was, so to speak, 
brute force architecture, and the 
masses of stone were only dealt with 
by the employment of enormous 
numbers of men and beasts. Having 
no scaffolding, they heaped up sand 
and earth against the building as it 
arose, and thus carried the materials. 
When finished the sand and earth 
were dug away and removed. 

In Luxor Temple is a colossal 
statue of Pharaoh Rameses IL 
Behind him will be observed his 
wife meekly standing, her height 
scarcely reaching to the knee-cap of 
her lord and evident master, showing 
in what esteem, or want of it, women 
were held in those heathen times. 
The ladies have taught j us much 
civilization since then. What 
Britisher of to-day would dare to 
have a family representation made 
in such proportions ? 

In accordance with a custom often 
followed, we gave the men a sheep 
at Assiout and another at Luxor. 
In acknowledgment^ they decorated 
the ship with palm leaves and scores 
of Chinese lanterns, and gave us an 
Arabian concert Strange and weird 
it was, though not very entertaining, ^vm*] 

being a continuous 
dull monotone. 

To visit Thebes, 
we crossed the 
river, and spent six 
hours amongst the 
tombs and tem- 
ples- We went on 
donkeys over a 
high mountain of 
sand and stone in 
the Libyan range. 
There is not a 
vestige of verdure 
in it, and yet it is 
imposing, and the 
air most exhilarat- 
ing. At the Ra- 
masseum there is 
the fallen colossal 
statue of Rameses 
II., which weighs a 
thousand tons, and 
is one solid stone. 
This was the Pharaoh who gave the Israelites 
such a bad time. He is everywhere in evi- 
dence. He seems to have built more than 
any six of the other kings, and his manifold 








From a Photo, bjf A. Bsata. 

works have given him the name of Rameses 

the Great. All the way from Cairo to the 

Cataract the name 

which is most 

constantly on the 

dragoman's lijjs is 

Rameses II. He 

was the father of 

the Pharaoh 

whose iosts were 

drowned in the 

Red Sea, 

As stated at the 
outset, there will 
be no room in this 
skeleton sketch to 
describe the anti- 
quities of this 
ancient land* Of 
the great ruins of 
Tel -el -Amarna 
Sohag, Abydos, 
Denderah Isneh, 
Elkab, Edfon, and 
Komombos no- 
thing has been 

YoJ. xv r — 40* 

At Luxor the Consular Agent 
kindly invited ws to an Oriental 
lunch- All sit on the floor round a 
table without legs. Each course is 
brought in on one dish — meat, 
vegetables, etc-, together— and placed 
in the centre. It is eaten with the 
fingers, with a spoon or on pieces 
of bread. There are no knives or 
forks, and everyone dips in, like in 
a lucky-bag at a bazaar, and takes 
what happens to come. The food 
was good, well-cooked, and even 
tasty, but the method of eating it is 
not conducive to the stimulating of 
British appetites. 

We have been much struck with 
the primitive way they do many 
things on the banks of this great 
river. Round great fields of doora 
— a sort of Indian corn — 8ft. high, 
you will see half-a-dozen men on 
high mounds aiming at sparrows 
with slings and stones, identically 
the same as that with which David 
ended (loliath's career. They do 
not often hit them, but it frightens 
them off, A couple of ugly scare- 
crows made to turn with the wind 
would answer the same purpose, and 
these six men on each field could 
be working at something else. 
Every few hundred yards men are seen pull- 
ing up water, for irrigating the fields, by means 

From a Photo, bv] 





of a weighted pole resting on a cross-bar. The 
men— sometimes two, three, or even four 
men— pull the bucket down and fill it, then 
the weight raises it again, and the water is 
emptied into a basin. Above is another 
man — or more — getting it into a higher 
basin^ and perhaps a third still higher. 
It is then run in channels over the fields. 
One would have thought that suction or 
would have done 
twice the work* 
with a sixth part 
of the labour, but 
as the irrigation 
is under the 
supervision of the 
British Govern- 
ment official ex- 
perts, it is to be 
presumed that it 
is found the best 
available. There 
is some talk of 
utilizing the force 
of the First Cata- 
ract for irrigating 
purposes, Except 
during the inun- 
dations, which 
are caused by 
the rain and the 
melted .snow 
coming down 
from the Abys- 
sinian moun- 
tains, and which 
last from June 
till September, 
the crops are en- 
tirely dependent 
for moisture on artificial means. 

The demand for backsheesh is everywhere ; 
it is the first word a baby is taught to say, 
brioi. l yen ''father" or "mother," and tiny 
ones in arms hold out their hands and lisp it 
long before they know what it means. People 
even going about their ordinary work will put 
down their burdens to ask for backsheesh. 
The old, the young, the halt, the lame, the 
blind, and even the strong and healthy utter 
the same cry, which appears to be the watch- 
word of the country. It means literally "th^ 
sprinkling of iron," which metal was formerly 
used as coin. A nicke! worth about a fifth of 
a halfpenny used to be sufficient, but British 
and American tourists by their lavishness 
have made the natives dissatisfied with less 
than half a piastre ii l /±dX But the best way 

^>■o^^i rcj 


is to pay only for services rendered^ and thus 
discourage this tiresome and demoralizing 
wholesale beegary. To be followed in all 
your trips by a crowd asking for backsheesh 
does not add to your enjoyment of the study 
of Egyptology, and the only thing which 
sends them away is the application of a thick 
stick T which one is naturally averse to use. 
Our furthest point south is Philfe. an 

island a few miles 
beyond the First 
Cataract. We 
started for this 
from Assouan on 
donkeys, for* 
although there is 
a train, the back 
of the useful 
moke is much 
the best way to 
go, as he gives 
you a comfort- 
able seat and 
takes you about 
seven miles 
across the Ara- 
bian desert. The 
train also tra- 
verses part or the 
desert, but is not 
a very inviting 
First and second 
class are very 
poor, and as for 
the third — the 
passengers have 
to sit on the top 
of the loaded 
open trucks. 
This morning, 
when I saw them off, about fifty of them 
were enjoying the delights of sitting on 
coal. As there is no chance of rain, and 
Lhey can stand any amount of sun, this is not 
perhaps so dreadful as the Midland third- 
class dining-car passenger might regard it; 
still, it is not luxury. 

But to return to our donkeys. Our first 
stop was at, perhaps, the most ancient quarry 
in Africa. This supplied the huge monoliths 
which form the obelisks now in London, 
Paris, New York, and Thebes, There is 
one splendid piece of granite about the same 
size lying down. It was formerly all one stone, 
but Salem tells us that the Romans lately cut 
it in two Asked what "lately" meant, he 
replied, ''About 300 years rc." After all, 
the affairs uf life Ere largely matters of degree 





r ■ 




and proportion and a man who hns been in course, is very dry, is also bracing, After 
the habit of talking about thousands of years desecrating the beautiful ruins of the Temple 
has a contempt for mere hundreds n.c. Near of PhiUe by spreading out a luncheon in 
here is the sacred cemetery, situated on the them, and regretting that the frailties of 

modern flesh so 
much clashed with 
the study of ancient 
history, we started in 
our boat for the trip 
so long looked for- 
ward to -the shoot- 
ing of the Cataract. 
Before taking the 
rapids ourselves, we 
landed in order to 
see about a dozen 
natives dive in and 


THE SACltF.t) CrMKlEhV *>Y A^OfA.W 


battlefield where the 
Mohammedan hosts 
were slain by the 
Christian and heathen 
allied forces. Next to 
Mecca this is regarded 
of all burying - places 
with the greatest rever- 
ence, and one of the 
most profound oaths a 
Mohammedan can take 
is when he swears by 
the sacred cemetery of 

The ride across the 
desert is most exhilarat- 
ing; the air, which, of 





swim or ride through them on big blocks 
of wood. This is one of the funniest sights. 
One after the other they jump in, and, shout- 
ing and singing as they ride the boiling surf, 
all come safely out into comparatively smooth 
water. And then, saving their best perform- 
ance in order to get double payment, they 
offer to dive from a rock about 30ft. high 
into the Cataract. This they did with great 

From a Phoio, lu\ 


skill and confidence, and buffeted through 
the swirling waves as before. 

Some people are disappointed that there 
are no perpendicular falls as at Schaff hausen ; 
but of course, if there were, it would be 
impossible for Iruts to shoot them. These 
rapids are more like the river above Niagara 
Falls, which rushes down around numberless 
rocks, making eddies and whirlpools as it 
pursues its angry course. 

There is a very black spot in Assouan, which 
is depressing. A prison is there, nearly all 
the inmates of which are murderers. They 
work a good deal on the river front unloading 
vesselSj and always in heavy, clanging chains. 
Visitors stop and stare at them for a long 
time, out of somewhat morbid curiosity at 
seeing a hundred murderers pass them in 
single file, and who are utterly callous of this 
want of respect for possible feelings of shame. 
They are all there for life, with never a vestige 
of hope of liberty. 

The A T itocri$ now starts on her return 
trip, with a great difference in her speed, 
(Joing towards the Cataract we have been 
all the lime working against stream, and 

only making six or seven miles an hour. 
Going back with the current, about double 
that rate of progress is easily maintained. 
On leaving Assouan we had an unpleasant 
experience, which one is always liable to on 
the Nile. We ran aground on a sand- bank. 
Our own sailors could not get us off, so 
thirty or forty men were sent for from shore, 
and pulled all together at a rope attached 

to an anchor, and 
so released us. 
Two of our party 
were playing chess, 
and another came 
up and asked, 
11 Whose move is 
it?" "It's the ship's 
turn to move," was 
the reply ; w weVe 
been here for three 

Between Assouan 
and Luxor are the 
Chari Mountains, 
interesting from the 
fact that the sand- 
stone used in con- 
struct! ng all the 
temples on the Nile 
. was quarried here. 
Each king has put an inscription on a panel 
stating when and where he used the stone, 
From here we steam back rapidly* The 
friendly stream, after resisting us so long, now 
works almost as hard for us as the engines, 
whilst the beautiful full moon lights up hill 
and dale and river far into the night. 

And so we come once again to Cairo, full 
of enthusiasm for the enjoyment we have 
had, and our memories stored with recollec- 
tions that will linger there for many a day. 

To have a quiet life upon the smooth 
waters ; to know as you go to bed at night 
that when you wake in the morning the sun 
will be streaming through the windows of 
your room, and that you will be able to 
enjoy all day its warm and constant rays; 
to have no fear of rain or snow or fog; 
to inhale genial, yet invigorating, air; to 
look, hour by hour, upon an ever-changing 
panorama ; to find these happy and healthy 
days pass by amidst the oldest and greatest 
temples and monuments the world has ever 
known —these are the temptations presented 
to those who are able to go from Cairo to 

U, j*. Stttah, 

[Next month an article will appear by Sir Ge&rge Newnts describing a Journey to Jerusalem*] 

Original from 

by Google 


Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of their Lives. 

AGE I.". 

prama PAtita. ftp SonfAwtll ti^n 




| MAR, who 
JJQ f\ was married 
in 1866 to 
tin: late Czar, 
Alexander III., is the 
daughter of the King of 
Denmark, and the sister, 
therefore, of the Princess 
of Wales and the King 
of Greece. Nearly thirty 
years of the anxious life 
which every Czarina has 
of necessity to undergo, 
has failed to rob Her 
Majesty of her beauty. 

She has always shrunk somewhat from public 
affairs, but this has served to make her the 
more powerful in the home of her family, and 
the more popular with the Russian people. 
She has caused her children to be trained 
and educated with a severe absence of all 
softening luxury, and it is pleasing to recall 

jy Google 

the late Czar's love 
for his children ; no 
matter how late he 
returned, he always 
made a point of 
coming to the cots of 
the little ones to kiss 
them in their sleep, 
and the love of the 
Empress for her 
children was as great 
as his own. 

'•'■■■:-:-V ■■•.-. '-,.:••■■.•.■'. - 

A< -h, 2d. 
f'ri'ifi it t*fv*hi. by Mil nit if Oo 


— — — — BgHBi 

FSE5ENT DAY. [flUM*U * AsiU, 




worked for Punch under four editors— 
Mark Lemon, Tom Taylor, Shirley Brooks, 

4Vima«J age i& I Uagutrrtotvjm. 

Born 1845. 



35^yB§3T sixteen years of age hmley 

Wi^v^ Samhoume, of Punch fame, went 

15 as S ent l eman apprentice to the 

Marine Engine Works of Messrs. 

Penn, of Greenwich. He was 
there for six years, going through 
the whole of the routine, and 
working hard as a practical engi- 
neer. The extraordinary accuracy 
in nil the details of his drawings 
is distinctly traceable to that early 
training, Through Mr. German' 
Reed he was introduced to Mark 
Lemon, the then editor of Punrfu 

From a Photo, bg Palmer,, RnnUfftiU. 

and Burnand — in addition to which 
has also illustrated a number of books. 


ACrE 22. 

From a fJiofcj. ftp ChtrrU* B- Tnyl«r, Strand. 

and his first drawing appeared 
in that paper in April, 1867* 
Mr. Sambourne can well be proud 
of the fact that he has never 
missed a week since. He has 

Digitized by LiO( 

From a Phfttn, by\ 


j J/a«4 j*it. 



From a Photo, bv HVlt <£ SautuUn, Oxford. 



D,D.> Bishop of Chi- 
chester since 1895, is 
the son of the Right Rev. Samuel 
Wilberforce, Bishop of Winchester. 
Educated at Exeter College, Ox- 
Fold, he became Curate of ( Jiddes- 
don in 1864, Vicar of Middleton 

Ac,t-: 4T, 
From a Phcto. h$ wuiirrx it ifuick. 

k was called to the 
Bishopric of Newcastle, 

From a Jtota. by Hill* * friunUrt. Qtfmt 

Stoney, Oxfordshire, in 1866. lie was 
pointed Sub-Almoner to the Queen in 1871, 
From 1873 to 1878 he was Vicar of Seaforth, 
Liverpool, and Canon- Residentiary of Win- 
chester from 1S77 to 1882, in which year he 


/>«*fa kg Elliott & Fry. 


Miss Cayley's Adventures. 

By Grant Allen. 

N the day when I found myself 
with twopence in my pocket, I 
naturally made up my mind to 
go round the world. 

It was my step-father's death 
that drove me to it. I had 
never seen my step-father. Indeed, I never 
thought of him as anything more than even 
Colonel Watts-Morgan. I owed him nothing 
except my poverty. He married my dear 
mother when I was a girl at school in 
Switzerland ; and he proceeded to spend her 
little fortune, left at her sole disposal by my 
father's will, in paying his gambling debts. 
After that, he carried my dear mother off to 
Burma ; and when he and the climate between 
them had succeeded in killing her, he made 
up for his appropriations cheaply by allowing 
me just enough to send me to Girton. So, 
when the Colonel died, in the year I was 
leaving college, I did not think it necessary 
to go into mourning for him. Especially 
as he chose the precise moment when my 
allowance was due, and bequeathed me 
nothing but his consolidated liabilities. 

"Of course you will teach," said Elsie 
Petheridge, when I explained my affairs to 
her. "There is a good demand just now for 
high-school teachers." 

I looked at her, aghast. " Teach I Elsie," 
I cried. (I had come up to town to settle 
her in at her unfurnished lodgings.) "Did 
you say teach? That's just like you dear 
good schoolmistresses ! You go to Cam- 
bridge, and get examined till the heart and 
life have been examined out of you ; then 
you say to yourselves at the end of it all, 
4 Let me see ; what am I good for now ? I'm 
just about fit to go away and examine other 
people ! ' That's what our Principal would 
call 'a vicious circle* — if one could ever 
admit there was anything vicious at all about 
you, dear. No, Elsie, my child, I do not 
propose to teach. Nature did not cut me 
out for a high-school teacher. I couldn't 
swallow a poker if I tried for weeks. Pokers 
don't agree with me. My dear, between our- 
selves, I am a bit of a rebel." 

" You are, Brownie," she answered, pausing 
in her papering, with her sleeves rolled up — 
they called me " Brownie," partly because of 
my complexion, but partly because they could 
never understand me. "We all knew that 
long ago." 

I laid down the paste-brush and mused. 

" Do you remember, Elsie," I said, 
staring hard at the paper-board, " when I 
first went to Girto